


An Axe To Grind

by mysterycyclone



Series: Axe Series [1]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mullins backstory, Mute Runner Five, Spoilers for S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterycyclone/pseuds/mysterycyclone
Summary: The local settlements have agreed to let their runners and patrols work together much more closely these days. This has helped keep the peace among the few bastions of humanity left in the region. One bad run threatens to shatter this tenuous alliance.Five has a lot to answer for.--Spoilers for S1 and on through to S2M15! Treat this like a series of Side Missions for S2.





	1. One Bad Run

**Author's Note:**

> TyraaRane sent me a prompt the other day and I apparently lost control of my life in the process.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The first thing Five is aware of when she wakes up is the pounding in her head. Her ears are ringing, amplifying the pain. She feels dizzy, sick, and opening her eyes takes monumental effort. She fights through it, sitting up slowly and reaching back to cup the back of her head, wincing when her hand brushes over a small bump on the back.

The second thing she notices is the blood.

It’s everywhere. On her clothes, her skin, the grass (grass?), the body across from her in the forest clearing--

The body. She forces herself to focus, fighting through the dizzy nausea that makes her stomach flip when she moves her head. The late summer sunlight hits her eyes, temporarily blinding her. She’s in the forest not far from Abel, laying on the ground under the late morning sun that filtered through the leaves. Blood is splattered across her body--from her trainers up to the worn jumper she had borrowed from Sam that morning. The stains had gone brown and stiff at the edges, but sticky and cold in the center. Her socks are absolutely soaked. Her pack is nowhere to be found.

The body is human, not zombie; the flesh has gone pale pink from lack of blood, not the mottled, diseased grey most zombies become. It’s male, and vaguely familiar, wearing the remains of a military uniform. Something about the way his hair falls over his face tugs at her memory, but the pain makes it too hard to focus. Everything below his neck and shoulders is an utter mess, his body brutally torn and hacked apart, and an axe is buried into the flesh of his back--

An axe. _Her_ axe. The one she had claimed from the armory when she first arrived at Abel and had kept with her everywhere she went. She freezes, breath hitching in her throat, struggling to recall what happened before something knocked her over the head.

She remembers hearing a plane overhead while sharpening her axe at the workshop, Sam calling her over the loudspeakers to go grab the airdrop, leaving the township… Sam said something about a soldier standing by the airdrop until either a New Canton or Abel Township runner reached it. He had said their radios had trouble in that area, and cams weren’t working in that sector at all, and to be careful.

And then shock, pain, and the fuzzy, half conscious daze that comes with a concussion.

Nothing else comes of it except for a renewed wave of pain and nausea when she tries to force her memory to cooperate. But the ringing in her ears finally subsides a bit, and she can hear the tinny sound of a raised voice speaking through a small speaker to her left.

“Hang on, I hear something. Runner Five? Five, is that you?” Sam. Static is interrupting every other word, making the fog in her brain thicken. Her headset is only barely out of reach of her outstretched arm, but that almost feels too far. Five rolls to her knees, sways for a moment, and then slowly crawls forward, reaching out to tap against the mic.

“Five here,” Her hand is shaky, and she can see dried splotches of blood standing out against her skin, flecks of it peeling off as she moves it. She means to keep going, to ask for help, but she can’t. Why was her hand covered in so much blood? What _happened_ here?

“Five! Oh, thank god,” Sam’s voice is equal parts relieved and frustrated. And loud. Five winces, tugging the small speaker away from her ear. “We lost comms, and I don’t have cams in that part of the woods--it’s been nearly thirty minutes!”

“Hurt. Need help.” It really does take a lot of effort to focus on communicating, but her head clears a bit, and she’s quick to add, “Not bitten.”

Sam’s breath comes out in a huff, and he’s all business again. “Right, okay---yeah, um. I sent Runner Eight and Runner Three out to find you when we lost communications. Guys? What’s your ETA?”

“We’re about ten minutes out at our current pace,” Sara says, her voice calm and determined. “Are there any hostiles with you, Five? We’ve heard rumors of bandits in that part of the forest lately.”

Five steadies herself, bracing her hand against the ground, and then slowly looks around the clearing. The process is slow and painful, but she doesn’t see anyone crouched among the trees or beyond them. “No. Just me.”

“Good, that’s one less thing to worry about. Keep a sharp eye out, Five,” Sara says, “Come on, Three, pick up the pace!”

“Don’t worry, Five, your rescue is on its way!” Simon says, and Five can hear the grin in his voice. Great. Just the person she wants to see while covered in blood and slightly concussed. He’s going to give her shit about this for months.

 

* * *

 

She must have passed out again, because the next time she opens her eyes, she finds Simon kneeling over her, with his fingers pressed against the pulse point on her throat. His hand is warm and, if moving didn’t make her feel like death, she’d curl up to it. It’s been unseasonably chilly lately, and spending half the day laying on the cold ground has taken its toll. She's lucky autumn and winter hadn’t fully set in yet; falling asleep in that weather can be deadly.

He sees her shift and move, and immediately loses the pinched, worried look on his face, replacing it with a cocky grin. “Sleeping on the job, eh Five?”  His eyes focus on hers for a moment before he hums. “Those pupils don’t look right. Let’s take a look at your head.”

He shifts his fingers away from her throat, slipping them up into her hairline, checking for wounds. She shivers and presses up into his hand, and he spreads it across the back of her neck briefly before resuming his check. Five hisses and winces away from him when he touches the bump on the back of her head. He whistles low, prodding it gently, checking for breaks in the skin. She tries to push his hand away from it. He doesn't need to poke it _that_ hard.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’ve got a nice goose egg on the back of your head there, Five. Probably got a concussion out of your little adventure out here,” He pulls his hand back from her hair, leaving it on her shoulder while he helps her sit up from the ground. It isn’t so bad when she has someone nearby to help her, but the movement still makes her dizzy and her vision unfocuses for a moment when she sits up completely. He looks over the rest of her and then shakes his head, squeezing her shoulder to keep her from swaying too much while he speaks. “Can’t tell if there’s anything else wrong. There’s too much blood on you.”

  
“Blood?” Sam’s voice comes over the headset, alarmed, “Five, are you bleeding? How bad is it?”

“The blood isn’t hers, Sam,” Sara cuts in. She’s kneeling in one of the few spots free of blood and viscera, checking over the body. Or, rather, what was left of it. “That’s a Mullins uniform. I don’t recognize the name.”

Her eyes fall on the axe, and her tone becomes carefully neutral. “Did you know a Sergeant Williams, Five?” Sara’s tone is free of suspicion, but her eyes are another matter entirely. There’s no accusation there yet, not entirely, just curiosity.

Five goes still, and she can feel the blood drain from her face. Sgt. Williams. That was a nightmare from a previous life she had fervently hoped to never hear from again. Simon squeezes her shoulder again, and she grounds herself to the warmth from his hand. It would be all too easy to fall back into bad memories with her mind as scattered as it is right now.

Five shakes her head slowly, trying to clear her mind of unpleasant memories. Signing is difficult and slow, but Sara watches her patiently, exuding a quiet and deadly calm that helps Five keep her composure. “I know him, he lived in the same block as I did at Mullins. We weren’t friends.”

Simon frowns at the body for a moment, then turns away, “Was he the one who knocked you over the head? I’d say you got more than even with him.”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything,” Five gives a small, helpless shrug. She knows she isn’t capable of _that_ kind of violence. Not against a living person, not even on someone like Williams, no matter how often she’d entertained fantasies of it. “I remember shouting, and something hitting me, and then I woke up like this…”

“Right. That’s a problem,” Sara says, “Mullins contacted us and said they were lending us one of their soldiers to act as a guide and escort to the air drop. I guess it’s part of some cooperation initiative between settlements out here, the one the Major mentioned not too long ago.”

“Five wouldn’t kill anyone,” Sam cuts in, “She’s not a _murderer_ , Eight. If that man’s dead, it didn’t happen because of anything she did.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Sam. She’s easily murdered the fashion tastes of half the township given what she brings back from supply runs.” Simon grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off of the body, but he never looks for longer than a few seconds.

“It certainly looks suspicious, but I have to agree with you, Sam. Five’s not capable of this kind of slaughter,” Sara continues as if she hadn’t been interrupted. If she’s disturbed by the violence of Sgt. Williams’ death, Five can’t tell. “He’s been hacked apart with an axe. Five’s covered in blood from head to toe, her axe is buried in the middle of what’s left of his back… We’re in a bit of a conundrum here. We can’t exactly cover this up and just bury the man. Not with all the pieces and blood strewn about.”

“I, er, vote against that, as well,” Simon huffs a short laugh. “I’m not interested in getting any blood on my hands, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Sara walks over to Five and Simon, then looks over Five herself. Simon is still keeping her steady, but having Sara close by lessens her anxiety. Also the fact that Sara believes her and is apparently willing to help hide a body for her. That's always a good thing to know about your quite frankly intimidating friends. “It’ll be an uncomfortable trip back, but you can do it, Five.”

“Guys, just a heads up: there are about three soldiers headed your direction,” Sam says quietly, as though afraid the soldiers would hear. “ They’re coming in from the north. It might be that man’s friends.”

“Dammit,” Sara frowns at the scene, sighs, “No good will come of this if they find you here, Five. Tempers run hot in the field, and Mullins outfits their soldiers well. Simon, help me keep her steady and get her back to Abel. The last thing we need is to lose a good runner to some hothead soldier.”

Five could easily see that happen. She shudders, and then nods. “We need to go before they find us.”

“Right! I’ve got a bit of experience running from the law. Never figured it’d do me good in the apocalypse. C’mon, Five.” Simon gently nudges her towards the southern end of the clearing and Five takes a few shaky steps before he ducks forward and grabs her arm, pulling it across his shoulders. She leans against him gratefully, matching his pace. “Ugh. You’re covered in blood. You owe me some new clothes for this. _Tasteful_ ones, mind you. I saw those ridiculous pajamas you gave Sam. I’ll have no part of _that,_ thank you”

“The bright blue ones with line dancing sheep?” Sara says, moving to Five’s other side and keeping an eye on their trail. “I rather like those.”

“For God’s sake, Eight, don’t encourage her.” Simon drawls, taking on more of Five’s weight and half carrying her into the woods.

Five can’t help but give a small smile at their banter. She’s seen this before; runners putting on a show for distressed friends. It's a way to keep them from isolating themselves or getting too lost in their own memories. Jack and Eugene were famous for it back at Abel, in fact.

Simon probably wasn’t kidding about the clothes thing, though. She really did smear a lot of blood across his chest and legs.

They’re almost out of sight of the clearing when the first cries of horror erupt from the soldiers. There’s a brief, shocked silence, punctuated by the sound of someone becoming violently sick. A hoarse voice, vaguely familiar to Five, starts shouting orders.

“Well? Don't just bloody stand there!” It’s only when a thread of anger enters the voice that Five recognizes it, and she finds herself running almost on her own despite the dizziness. She's nearly dragging Simon behind her, and he struggles to match her sudden burst of speed. There are a lot of people she’d happily left behind at Mullins. Williams had been one, and the owner of that voice is the other. “There's an outline in the bloodstains on the ground. Someone was here. Start searching! Private, contact command, give them a full report and find out what the hell they sent Williams out here for--”

The voice fades behind them and Five slows again. Simon gives her a curious look, but says nothing. He only squeezes the hand she has braced on his shoulders. She must really look upset if that’s all he does; he’s a bit of a loudmouth.

“Okay, you’re out of sight of them, guys. That’s the only patrol I’ve heard of in the area,” Sam says, “There are a few packs of zoms roaming around on the way back to Abel, but they’re only shamblers. Even at your pace, you should be fine to avoid them.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Sara looks over her shoulder, back towards the clearing. “You’d best call the Major and Janine. We’re going to need their help with this. It’ll get real ugly when Mullins figures out what’s happened, but at least we’ve got some breathing room now.”

“Yeah, already done. They’re waiting for you at the gates with Maxine,” Sam replies “Five, you should see her first before anyone else if you’re hurt, alright?”

“I will, Sam.” At least she can do her tap codes with one hand. “Thank you.”

They all fall silent after that, though Sam gives a few false starts to the conversation. He eventually gives up, only pausing in his directions to quietly encourage them when they get closer to the gates. Simon’s busy watching Five out of the corner of his eye, and Sara’s staring grimly ahead, frowning in that way she does when she knows something unpleasant is on the horizon.

She isn’t wrong. Five is all too aware of how Mullins will react to this. The people in charge of Mullins can be downright vindictive when it came down to it, and they have one hell of an excuse to bring down the hammer on Abel Township.

All because of her.

She trudges through the gates with Simon, causing a wave of worried muttering among the guards and runners there. Maxine is at her side in an instant, unphased by the blood, and guiding her towards the infirmary with Simon’s help.

Major de Santa falls into step beside them, taking in Five’s appearance with a slight narrowing of her eyes. “Runner Five. You have a bit of explaining to do.”

 


	2. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter uses a character originally created by [TyraaRane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TyraaRane/pseuds/TyraaRane) for a prompt I randomly shot her way a few months ago. You can find that prompt and fic [here.](http://ambassadordelenn.tumblr.com/post/161786937249/re-our-convo-about-fives-past-from-last-night-i) Give it a read!
> 
> Enjoy!

Abel’s hospital is cold and drafty, thanks to a massive hole in the front wall that still hasn’t been fixed after Van Ark’s attack, but it’s a vast improvement from the chill wind outside. Five is in the back of the ward, near a window made dark by thick, mismatched curtains, sitting on a cot cross legged. She shifts uncomfortably on her cot, tugging at a loose thread on the grey sweatpants Maxine had given her after she’d showered. The vertigo from earlier still weighs her down, and washing herself while mildly concussed is an experience she hopes to never repeat. Maxine had to help her at one point when the dizziness got to be too much, something that Five would have found embarrassing if she hadn’t needed her helped so badly.

Major De Santa is sitting on a cot across from her, watching her closely, back straight and her hands resting on her knees. She’s a solid, formidable woman, who carries an air of command and authority that can silence a room of rowdy runners with a look. She’s never been unkind, and by all accounts, she uses her authority fairly. Five is glad for that, though it does nothing to ease her nervousness around her. She has never been entirely comfortable around the Major; the woman kept the runners at a comfortable distance, and Five isn’t in the habit of rubbing shoulders with authority figures anyway. Too many bad memories.

“You’ve caused something of an incident, Runner Five,” De Santa says calmly, “It’s barely been a month since all of the local settlements agreed to a non-aggression pact. The ink on the paper has barely had time to dry.”

Five sighs, nodding. She had been there for that one. She had helped play decoy for the meeting with other runners from various settlements. Every settlement in the region had met at New Canton to discuss boundaries, who has the authority to scavenge in what area, and establish a tentative trade economy between each other. Five hadn’t been privy to the discussion, though Sam had listened in and given her the gist of it before becoming unbearably bored and switching them over to the radio. The pact has worked swimmingly for the few weeks it's been in place.  
“Mullins knows you were found near their man, and they’re not happy with us. Sgt. Williams reported in just before your headset went dark, and gave his operator your number.” She goes quiet for a moment, still watching Five. When Five doesn’t respond, she continues. “I hope you can explain what happened out in that forest. Mullins is sending out a delegation to Abel to investigate. There are going to be some hard questions aimed your way once they get here.”

Five winces. The Major has no idea how right she is. Five had hoped to never think of Mullins again. She had been happy when Janine told her Mullins wasn’t willing to expend resources to bring her back.

“Runner Five,” De Santa draws Five’s attention back from the thread that was quickly unraveling between her fingers, “What happened out there? The more you can tell me, the better off we’ll all be.”

Five shrugs helplessly, and then focuses on her signing. Her head is still pounding, and despite her anxiety, she’s fighting to stay awake. Too much has happened today. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything after Sam giving me directions to the air drop.”

That isn't entirely true. She has flashes of memory before that. A feeling of shock and horror. Someone yelling, a sharp pain in the back of her head, and the feeling of something hot and wet striking her. All she has are pieces that refused to be pulled into a coherent whole. She can't think clearly, not when her head is pounding like this.

Major De Santa nods, and Five can’t help but feel that she’s disappointed her somehow. “That’s common with head wounds. And rather unfortunate in this case. Very well.” She watches Five closely. “No good can come of questioning someone with a concussion. Especially not someone who can barely stand on her own. Do your best to try and remember, Runner Five. We’ll talk again tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to rest.”

Five nods. The motion still causes a bit of pain and vertigo, but it doesn’t threaten to send her flat on the ground like it did earlier.

The Major leaves silently, and without a second glance. Five breathes a quiet sigh of relief, and then resumes her nervous picking at that same loose thread. Her nerves are wound tight, and if she was capable of it, she would have gone out to run off the stress and worry. As it is, she’s lucky to keep her balance while sitting still on the hospital cot. Maxine had said her concussion was a mild one by most standards, but she’d feel disoriented and sick for awhile yet. At least that would distract her from the oncoming panic attack.

What a nightmare.

Five runs her hands down her face, suddenly feeling the weight of the day settling in on her, and then leans back against the cool wall behind her.

She doesn’t quite doze off--at least, not for more than the few minutes it takes for Maxine to come in and check on her a few times--but it’s still a surprise to see Sam shuffle in with a tray of food and small kettle of tea. He waves at her, nearly tipping the tray over in the process, then comes and sets it down on the table next to her cot. He looks tired and nervous, the way he usually does when one of his runners is hurt.

“Hi, Five!” He pulls a chair over to her cot, and drops down on it with a slight grunt. He immediately starts to fiddle with the food tray, lifting the cover to show two small bowls of vegetable stew. It’s thin, but there’s plenty of it. A marked improvement from when Five first stumbled into the township last year. There’d been one memorable time when the population had survived off of corn and M&Ms for about two weeks until Janine had reached her limit and sent Five out on a frenzy of food supply missions. “Maxine was called off to help one of the farmers with a sprained ankle. She said you’d need someone to stay here with you and make sure you didn’t fall asleep for a few more hours, so I volunteered! I figured you could use some food, too.”

Five can’t help but smile at him a little, and she feels some of her anxiety drain away. Sam is always good at that, helping her relax. Almost from the moment he first spoke to her after her chopper crashed. “I thought you had runs this afternoon?”

He squints at her hands. She’s still having trouble with the fine movements, and it makes her ‘words’ seem slurred and stuttery. He catches her meaning, though. “Oh, the Major canceled all of them and called the runners back awhile ago. She and Janine kicked me out of the comms shack, too. I think they were going to radio Mullins.”

That makes sense, but Five can’t help but feel guilty. Abel is stable at the moment, but every successful supply run makes it stronger and brings it closer to where it was before Van Ark’s attack. And now an entire afternoon’s run schedule has been scrapped.

Sam notices her frown. “It’s okay! Really! Everyone made it back safely. Well, except for Runner Seven. Evan was a bit off course, at some place near Bert Airfield. He can’t make it back before dark. He’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“That’s too bad.” Five isn’t looking forward to his return, honestly. Evan is Head of Runners, and even though he keeps claiming it isn’t an official title, he treats it as if it is, and takes his responsibilities seriously. He’d likely have questions for her himself when he got back. At this point, she should have everyone take a number. “I hope he has a safe run.”

Sam smiles. “I’m sure he will.” He taps her hand with the back of his spoon, nodding to her stew. “Eat up before it gets too cold. I’ll fill you in on what's been going on since this morning.”

His tone brooks no argument, so Five complies. For what it is, the meal isn’t too bad. Sam’s company makes it better, bringing a warmth to the room that hadn’t been there before. She drains the soup, and finds herself relaxing, leaning back against the wall while Sam talks. Every time she nearly falls asleep, Sam starts with another conversation, usually with an update from the town (“Jack said Cameo found these awesome new mics for the comms shack! Can’t wait to use them. Ours are held together by duct tape and dreams at this point.”) or with a personal story (“My little sister was into rugby, you know. She’d use me for practice. She once gave me a black eye that lasted for two weeks! All because I chased her up a tree with a snail. Seems a bit too far for that, don't you think?”). It’s nice, and calming, and while Five can’t quite ignore the anxious fire in her brain and lead ball in her belly, Sam helps her forget the storm gathering on the horizon for a little while.

He does not once mention the body or ask her what happened. In fact, he seems to avoid it, as if he can sense her anxiety. He probably can; Sam is damn good at reading his runners, and Five in particular.

Five polishes off her meal with a sigh, just as Maxine comes in. She checks Five one last time and smiles. “I think you’re in the clear now, Five. Go get some rest, okay? Come find me if you need anything.”

“I will, Maxine. Thanks.” Finally. Five wants nothing more than to just curl up in a blanket and sleep. She needs peace and quiet, and a chance to ignore the world completely for awhile. Just long enough for her to regain her equilibrium, or to at least try to get her thoughts in order.

“I’ll walk you to your room, Five,” Sam says, standing up and stretching. He’s tired, too. And the nervousness from earlier in the day hasn’t completely faded from him.

Five manages a small smile at Sam, standing up slowly under Maxine’s careful eye. She stretches out her legs and then carefully follows Sam out of the hospital’s ward. He pulls the door open and holds it for her, keeping a close eye on her. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Five brushes past him and stands outside.

It’s nearing to dark, well past dinner time. The wind has picked up, and the sunset is obscured by thick grey clouds. The first true wind of autumn had slipped in while Five was inside the hospital. If she wasn’t so caught up in her own emotions and confusion (not to mention her pounding headache), she would stop to take in the air and enjoy it. Autumn has always been one of her favorite seasons, despite how gloomy it can be.

She stops regardless, briefly dizzy. Sam reaches out to steady her with a firm hand on her shoulder, moving up behind her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body against her back.

“Easy, Five,” He says quietly, close to her ear. She has to fight back a shiver that has nothing to do with the chill wind outside. He gently squeezes her shoulder, then moves around to her side. “Here, lean on me if you need. I’ll walk you back to Red Dorm.”

Five leans against him gladly. She’s been happy to take any excuse to be close to him lately, and he never seems to mind having her close. In fact, he’d seek her out during the few times their rest breaks matched up, just to talk or ask her to play a game with him at the rec room. That wasn’t too common these days, but it was starting to happen more and more.

He leads them back to Red Dorm. It was the dorm closest to the gates, behind the comms shack, just north east to Janine’s farmhouse and settled amongst various tents, bunkhouses, and two other dorms. It's a squat, two story building that houses the township’s runners and radio operators. The Green Dorm next to it is in shambles; one of the casualties of the rocket launcher attack a few months ago. Yellow Dorm still stands, but fire damage covers the face of it. The noticeboard is empty and scorched, and the bike stands have fallen over. The small garden plots outside each dorm have been churned up into unsightly piles of mud and dead flowers.

Home sweet home.

The dorm is dim and quiet when they get inside. Everyone seems to either be in the mess hall near the quad or asleep in their rooms. Rebuilding efforts have cut down on recreation activities in Abel, leaving most too tired to work up the energy for a round of cards or a game of chess, aside from a few runners on their rest break. The building is dim now that the sun has been obscured by clouds, but she and Sam can see well enough to make their way up to the next floor.

The rooms are abysmally small, barely large enough for a bed or cot and a small clothes chest, and the walls are paper thin, but the population treats the building as the luxury it truly is. After spending so much time bunking together in tents, having a private room to oneself is a treat for many runners. Although Five knew of plenty of people who decided to move in with one another or on the open floor on the first floor. They were usually bunkmates who’d grown used to sharing a living space and having someone nearby to help with their nightmares. Yang, Kytan, and Cameo have somehow shoved three cots inside their room. Five isn’t sure how that’s working out, but the three of them seem happy enough.

Sam stops outside her door, squeezing her hand briefly before letting it go. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything, all right? You can come get me, day or night. I mean that.”

That had been a welcome surprise. Sam had somehow won the raffle for a room, and fate put him across the hall from her. Five manages a wan smile, “I’ll let you know, Sam. Thanks.”

Sam leaves with a smile and small wave and Five shuts the door behind him. Her room is small, filled with small knick knacks she’d gathered on runs or found in the township. It isn’t exactly the Ritz, but it is nice to have a room to herself after sharing one with Jody and Sara for so long. A scuffed up duffle bag serves as her clothes closet, and a well worn stool acts as a nightstand and chair. A small candle sits on top of it inside a small bowl, next to a snowglobe Sam had given her as a housewarming gift. Her radio is propped against the wall, beside a small mattress laying on the floor. Five had been lucky enough to win that in a game of poker against Simon. Where he had found it (or how he’d managed to bring it back to the township) is a mystery to her, but she’s slept much better since that night. Simon, being himself, had made a grand show of his poor sore back from sleeping on the ground when she passed by him in the morning for the next week.

She lays down across her mattress on the floor, laying on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The silence is almost oppressive, but she doesn’t want to get up and turn on her radio just yet. News of what happened must have reached New Canton by now, and she isn’t in the mood to listen in on Radio Cabel’s interpretation and speculation of the day’s events. She needs to sort out her thoughts, and this is the first time she’s had a chance to really go over the events of the day in relative peace.

What a fucking mess. She had thought Mullins would stop being a thorn in her side after they refused to send a chopper out to pick her up last year (or, really, communicate at all with Abel beyond telling Janine that they’re not interested in expending the resources required to take Five back to Mullins). She hadn’t been insulted at all by their refusal, either. She’d been relieved. Mullins Base certainly had good people working and living there, but she hadn’t met many of them in her block. She’d been considered a burden because she couldn’t speak, with only a few people who understood sign language living on the base, and their grasp on it had ranged from shaky to outright apathetic. Living among a bunch of angry, traumatized people who didn’t know how to communicate with her had put her in a very dark place by the time she’d reached Abel. The officer in charge of her block had resented being given someone so useless and had happily taken his frustrations out on her with petty and ultimately useless assignments around the base and criminally dangerous ones out in the field. Hell, he’d made her mop up the rain in the parking lot for some imagined slight one day, and berated her viciously for dropping supplies in the field when she had been forced to decide between saving her own skin or a tin of beans. He’d been a large source of her nightmares until she met Van Ark and realized just how depraved and cruel someone could be.

And then there was Sgt. Williams with his too wide grins and grasping hands.

Five is relieved he’s dead. At least he can’t hurt anyone anymore.

An hour, possibly more, passes while she’s lost in her thoughts. The light outside her window grows dimmer, and Five hears a group of runners enter the dorm, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. The sound comforts her, and she melts into her bed, such as it is. She’s just about to fall asleep when someone knocks on her door. Silently groaning in frustration, Five rolls out of bed and stumbles up, whipping open the door to glare at her visitor. Her hair is half a mess, and one strap on her tank top slides down her shoulder when stands. Whatever, she isn’t looking to impress anyone this late in the evening, and everyone has seen her in far worse shape than this, probably.

Five is halfway through a rude sign, but stops when she sees who her visitor is.

Sara takes in the view and smirks at the look on Five’s face, “Good to see you back to normal, Five. I wanted to stop by and chat for a bit. Seems there’s something of a political storm forming up, and I don’t want you caught unaware.”

Five’s shoulders slump. Of course there is. She nods and opens the door, letting Sara into her room. Two people inside the same room can be stifling, but she's shared a small living space with Sara often enough to be comfortable with close contact. Runners tend to have almost no concept of personal space among each other anyway. Another change from Mullins.

“What’s happening?” Five asks, leaning against the wall near the door.

“Mullins is threatening to stop air drops cold, and to pull their people off of red zone clean up duty. We can't afford that, what with us still rebuilding Abel from that last attack.” She gives a quiet snort. “And they’ve let everyone know why, as well. We aren’t too popular on Rofflenet right now. New Canton’s gotten cagey with us again, too.”

Five winces. This was just getting worse. “They need those airdrops. They have so many people living there…” Feeding and caring for over twenty-two thousand people was a difficult task even before the zombie apocalypse. New Canton needs all the help it can get. Even if she was still a little bitter about them trying to kill her a few times, there were plenty of good people inside the city.

“Did you kill him, Five?” Sara asks, tilting her head. There’s no accusation there, just plain curiosity.

“What?” The sudden change of topic throws her off guard, and Five glares at her. She’s pretty sure Sara wouldn’t bat an eye if she did confess, and she’s not entirely sure how she feels about that. Relieved and terrified, as with most things regarding Sara. “No! I don’t...I don’t remember what happened, but I wouldn’t kill someone. Not like that.”

“But you aren’t sad that he’s dead either,” Sara says quietly. “There’s a history between you, isn’t there? You knew each other at Mullins.”

Five crosses her arms in front of her and looks away, signing nothing. Sara can get a lot out of her most of the time, but this is one topic she’s not in the mood to share. Not now, anyway. She’ll have to tell someone eventually, but the longer she can avoid thinking about it, the better.

There’s a long moment of silence before Sara tilts her head towards Five and concedes the point. “You had better tell the Major about whatever history you had with that man, Five. We can’t help you if we don’t know all the facts, and Mullins is prepared to nail you to the wall.” Sara moves towards the door, and pauses, looking over at Five. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re capable of that kind of butchery. But it doesn’t look good for you, and character witnesses can only get you so far when it comes to military justice.”

Sara leaves, gently shutting the door behind her. Five stays where she is, lost in her own memories. Eventually, she falls asleep, and dreams of memories belonging to the woman that died on Z-Day, along with the rest of her old life.

 

* * *

 

_“You like it, sprout?” Her grandfather’s voice is calm and gentle, deep but not booming. He holds his hand down for Five to better see the watch on his wrist, polished silver with gold trim. He turns it for her to see the date etched along the bottom of the watch face. She’s young, maybe five or six, and he seems impossibly tall and large. The watch gleams in their living room light, polished bright and ticking smoothly. “A gift from your grandma, for our anniversary.”_

_Five runs her stubby fingers over it, beams up at him with a gap toothed smile, and then reaches her arms up to be held. He smiles, kneels down, and lifts her up into a warm, protective hug, humming some quiet song in later years she recognized as Duran, Duran._

 

* * *

 

 

Morning comes sooner than she’s prepared for, and the sun rises behind a veil of thick grey clouds. The temperature dropped during the night, and the morning air is brutally cold compared to just a few days ago, even inside the dorm. Five sits up with a soft grunt, rubbing her eyes, thankful that her nightmares had been brief and nondescript.

At least she hadn’t dreamt of Mullins again. A miracle, given her current situation.

The Major stays true to her word, and has Janine bring Five straight to the farmhouse in the center of the township, leading Five into her study. It’s tastefully decorated, with portraits and bookshelves lining the walls, and a large, oak desk in the center of it, near a fireplace. Oil lamps and candles are kept well away from the books, but are placed to provide meager light, though daylight streaming in from the windows keeps the study well lit. Janine does have power hooked up to her home, but she’s sparing with it.

It’s the most comfortable interrogation room Five has ever been in.

Major De Santa is standing near one of the large windows behind Janine’s desk, looking through the glass with her hands clasped behind her back. She turns when Five enters and nods to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Five sits down, fighting down the urge to fidget, and Major De Santa sits down across from her. Janine moves to stand somewhere behind Five, no doubt watching the runner closely.

“How are you feeling, Runner Five?”

Five shrugs, and then after realizing how unprofessional that probably looks, signs. “Better. Dr. Myers said it was a very mild concussion.”

“Good. Then you won’t be off duty for long after we’ve cleared this mess up with Mullins.” De Santa nods, then pulls out one of Janine’s meticulously detailed maps and sets it on the desk, frightening a small spider that had been crawling across the desk into a panicked retreat into a small stack of reports. The map is laminated, with dry erase marker scribbles across the surface. Safehouses, traps, military patrols, all are marked out by various radio operators, from Eugene’s quick notes, Sam’s blocky scribbles, and Janine’s precise script.

Five can see a lot of red zones on the map denoting danger. Bandits were more common in that sector than others, lending to a different sort of danger than most Abel runners were used to.

She leans forward, making sure to catch Five’s eye. “I’ll tell you what we know so far: Sam called you out for a standard supply run yesterday morning, and you left with your backpack and axe. An hour into your run, an airdrop drops down in the far west sector’s green zone, where the cameras are down. Sam dispatches you to it, and a passing infestation clean up squad from Mullins says one of their people is on the way since we didn’t have any runners to spare and help you carry back supplies. You leave the camera net’s reach, and go dark. Runners Eight and Three find you covered in blood, laying in a clearing next to the dismembered corpse of a man named Sgt. Williams, of Mullins Base. Your axe is buried into what’s left of him. I’m hoping you can fill in the gaps for us, Five.”

“I wish I could, Major,” Five signs, “I remember someone yelling, and then something striking my head, and waking up in the clearing.”

“Was anyone else in the clearing with you?” De Santa asks.

Five shakes her head. “I don’t know. Sgt. Williams might have brought someone with him.”

“That could be possible, but Mullins says he was there alone.” De Santa frowns down at the map. “You didn’t come back with your backpack.”

Five blinks. What _had_ happened to her backpack? It had a few supplies in it by the time she reached that forest clearing, but she had left it mostly empty in preparation for looting the air drop crate. She remembers that much, but she can’t remember if she had seen it after waking up. Everything was a blur of nausea and pain. “I don’t know. Did Sara or Simon bring it back?”

“No, they didn’t. They didn’t bring Sgt. Williams’ pack either.” De Santa sighs, leaning back. “Mullins asked about that when I spoke with them yesterday. They’re accusing us of stealing it.”

Five isn’t surprised by that accusation. “I really don’t know where my backpack went, Major. I’m sorry.”

Major De Santa holds her hand up. “It’s fine, Five. Head wounds are tricky things. Some scavengers likely found both and ran off with them. We’ll get this sorted.”

The radio on Janine’s hip chirps before Five can answer, and Sam’s voice comes over the speaker. “Ah, Major? The Mullins people are here. Runner Eight’s talking with them now.”

Janine pulls the radio off of her hip. “Understood, Mr. Yao. What are the names and ranks of our visitors?”

“Um, there’s actually a pretty big group of them. About twelve or so? Most of them are setting up their tents in the spot where Yellow Dorm used to be, but Major Olivia Stone and Lieutenant Edward Morden are the two heading over to the farmhouse with Runner Eight.”

Five goes pale and shrinks back further into her chair. Morden. This could not possibly get any worse. There are a few people on this planet that she still fears. The first is Professor Van Ark. The second is Edward Morden of Mullins Base.

Her reaction does not go unnoticed. Janine gives her a sharp look before turning back to her radio. Major De Santa folds her hands on the desk in front of her, watching Five curiously.

“Very well, Mr. Yao. I’ll see them inside.” Janine doesn’t look too pleased having more people inside her farmhouse, but she manages to keep from looking too annoyed when she leaves.

Major De Santa quirks a brow at Five. “Friends of yours?”

“No,” Five says, “Not even close. I don’t know Major Stone, but I do know Morden.”

“Is he trouble?”

Five hesitates. She isn’t the same person she had been back at Mullins, not by a long shot, but those memories haven’t faded that much. It was entirely possible Morden had changed himself; the apocalypse did that to people, after all. “He could be, yes.”

“I see.” Major De Santa considers this for a moment before standing up from the desk and carefully smoothing the creases from her jacket.

Janine returns with their guests, holding the door open for them to enter first, with Sara trailing behind the two soldiers. One is woman in her mid-30s, standing at average height and with a slight build. Her green eyes are sharp and take in the room quickly, almost nervously. Her uniform is almost immaculate, and the insignia marks her as a major. This must be Major Stone. Five has never seen her before; officers of that rank at Mullins tended to keep themselves well away from the ‘civilian specialists’ they employed and cared for. That was a task best kept to the lower ranked officers.

Beside Major Stone is a man all too familiar to Five. Lieutenant Edward Morden is a tall, dark haired man with an athletic build that fills out his green jumper and khakis well. He’s quite average looking, all things considered. The only thing that makes him stand out is the aura of affable contentment that he gives off.

Five can’t quite stifle the feeling of panic when she sees him. She shrinks down in her seat, drawing a curious look from Sara.

Major De Santa exchanges a brief salute to both of them. Stone’s salute seems short and perfunctory to Five’s eyes. Judging by the slight frown on Janine’s face, she caught it, too.

“Major Stone, Lieutenant Morden.” Major De Santa nods to both of them. “Welcome to Abel Township. I hope your travel was uneventful.”

“As uneventful as any travel can be these days.” Major Stone replies, her tone just short of dismissive. “I hope to resolve this matter promptly, Major De Santa. I cannot afford to spend too much time away from Mullins.”

“Of course. I’m sure we’d all like to know what happened.” Five isn’t an expert on reading the various expressions and tones of Major De Santa, but she gets the feeling De Santa’s patience is being tested. “If you and Lt. Morden would like to sit down and--”

Major Stone focuses on Five, as if noticing her for the first time. Her eyes narrow. “Is this the one who killed my soldier?”

“This is Runner Five.” Major De Santa says, her tone low. “She was found unconscious and wounded near the body of Sgt. Williams.”

“Has she confessed then?” Major Stone seems oblivious De Santa’s growing annoyance. “You could have saved me a trip if you’d told me that.”

Major De Santa pauses, staring down the Mullins officer. “There is nothing for my runner to confess to, as there is no evidence of--”

Morden steps to the side, finally in full view of Five. His eyes slide over to her and she sees him freeze in shock. His whole demeanor changes when he recognizes her. His eyes go dark, and he clenches his jaw. He gives a disbelieving laugh.

“Well. We won't have to look too hard for motive, Major Stone. Abel’s Runner Five is an old friend of Sgt. Williams. She was in Mullins before she ended up out here. One of the civilian specialists that volunteered for dangerous work for extra rations.”

Major Stone quirks an eyebrow at him, turning from Major De Santa. “You know her?”

Morden laughs darkly. “Oh, I know her alright! She was in my block before they pulled her for that mission out this way. Bloody nightmare of a worker, too. Never did her work right, spent half of her time in the punishment blocks and caused all sorts of headaches and trouble. More than the usual C-Block rubbish, too.”

“That has not been the case here at Abel.” Janine cuts in, her tone firm and slightly annoyed. Of course, Janine always sounds slightly annoyed around new people in general, and having strangers inside her house probably hasn’t helped matters. Still, Morden’s lack of propriety (and perhaps his insult towards Five’s work ethic) has pushed her beyond her limit. “Runner Five has been an asset to our community from the moment she arrived.”

Five is surprised by that. She and Janine haven’t spoken to each other much outside of a few supply runs and mission briefings, and she suspects the woman still doesn’t quite trust her. She did once thank Five for helping Sam work through his grief over Alice, and during a few supply missions when food was running low, but their interactions between missions were all but nonexistent. Being defended by her is a new and unexpected experience. Although it's possible Janine is trying to defuse the situation in her own way. Sara is standing behind Morden and the narrow eyed glare she has aimed at the back of the man’s head could peel paint.

Major Stone looks thoughtful, apparently unconcerned by her inferior’s blatant lack of etiquette. “This changes things. Major De Santa, I’d like to make a call to Mullins Base if possible. If there is a documented history between your runner and my soldier, I’d like to know it.”

“As would I.” Major De Santa gives Five a long, considering look. Five fidgets, suddenly nervous. She had planned on telling Major De Santa about that. Eventually. She knows not telling her has hurt her standing in the Major’s eyes, and that galls her. “But I won’t interrupt my runners’ schedule for another day. The comms shack is currently in use.”

“We can make the call from my quarters, Major De Santa.” Janine says, walking past Morden. She moves so suddenly that the man is forced to quickly move out of her way. Five wonders if she did that on purpose. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

“Lieutenant, stay with the Abel runner until I return.” Stone says, making a point to move out of the room ahead of Major De Santa. “Feel free to interview her in the meantime.”

Morden salutes after her, “Yes, ma’am.” He seems all too eager to comply. The look he gives Five is not friendly in the least, and she has to fight down a sudden surge of panic. If he sees how much he scares her...

De Santa purses her lips, glancing at Sara. She tilts her head back towards the desk where Five sits. Sara nods in return, accepting the silent order for what it is. Satisfied, Major De Santa follows after Janine and Stone, shutting the door behind them.

Morden is silent for a moment, turning to Five. “Well, Mouse. Long time no see.”

Five sets her jaw, and sends a small flurry of hand signs at him. He scoffs. “Quit it. You know how I feel about your nonsense.”

“You don’t know sign language, Lt. Morden?” Sara asks, tilting her head up at the man.

Morden rolls his eyes, dropping all pretense of etiquette. “I have a block of civilians the size of your little township under my command. Why would I spend the time to learn something only one person needs when I have so many others to look after?”

“Why indeed,” Sara replies, narrowing her eyes. She looks at Five, sets her jaw, and then moves to sit beside her at the desk. Five tilts her head at her, but isn't about to ask her to leave. If Sara left the study, Five would probably climb into an air vent to avoid Morden. Or fling a chair into his face, which probably wouldn't help her prove her innocence.

Morden frowns at her. “And what do you think you’re doing, Smith?”

“I’ll be acting as Five’s translator, of course,” Sara says, smiling at Morden, all teeth and sweetness. “Since you aren't fluent in sign language, you’ll need someone to help speak on her behalf. You can't very well interview someone if you don't speak their language, can you?”

“If you insist. This is all rather straightforward. We hardly need her testimony, given her history.” Morden says.

“Now, that's a funny way to run a murder investigation.” Sara replies, outwardly calm, but Five can sense her friend’s patience is rapidly running dry. Not that she blames her; Morden has that effect on people he considered inferior.

“This is a rather simple case. Like most things involving your friend here.” Morden finally turns to look at Five, speaking to her directly for the first time since he arrived. “Isn't that right, Mouse? I bet you were hoping to finish the job you started on Sgt. Williams back at Mullins. Probably hoped his body would be eaten by the corpses before anyone noticed he was missing. I feel obligated to point out that murder of a superior carries a death penalty, Mouse. Hanging, in fact.”

Five shrinks back, subconsciously shifting a little behind Sara before leaning forward again. Sara can't be expected to translate for her if she can’t see Five’s hands. “I didn’t kill him, you asshole.”

That last part slips out by accident, but Sara is kind enough to not give Morden a direct translation. She does give Five a small smirk when Morden isn’t looking, however.

“You know, I find that hard to believe.” Morden looms over her, circling behind her to rest his hand on the desk near the reports stacked on the edge. “In fact, I can’t help but wonder who helped you. Was it that radio operator of yours? The scatterbrained fellow?”

The implied threat to Sam sends a thread of fury through her. Five glares up at Morden, and starts to retort when the man suddenly jumps back with a slightly panicked curse.

Five stares at him dumbly until she sees the spider on his hand. He flings it off of himself and stomps the poor creature flat, cursing again. She has to fight urge to roll her eyes at him.

Sara looks positively amused. “Lieutenant, you aren't afraid of spiders are you?”

Her tone is perfectly innocent, but there’s a certain thread of mockery present. He glowers at her, and is about to reply. He stops suddenly. Voices can be heard outside the door.

The door opens and Major Stone’s voice comes into the room. “Lieutenant? Out here with me, please.”

“Yes, Major.” Morden shoots a glare at Five and Sara both before moving towards the door.

Major De Santa’s voice can be heard in the hall, firm and unflinching. “Now, look here, Major Stone. Abel Township is under my command. I’ll not have your people come in here and disrupt our work--”

“That’s awfully high talk for a village surviving on the kindness of others, De Santa.” Major Stone may not have the presence that De Santa carries, but her tone is just as hard. “This place would be nothing more than a pile of smoldering rubble were it not for the combined efforts of New Canton’s builders, Red Settlement’s food surplus, and Mullins weaponry. You can count on our support ending until this is handled. Orders from on high say to support your operations, but I will not stand idly by while my people are killed in the line of duty. You’d do the same in my position. If you have a problem with it, we can call the Ministry and have them tell you directly.”

Major De Santa is silent for a moment, and then straightens, clasping her hands behind her back. “Very well. But you will do this properly, Stone. Or there will be hell to pay. Am I clear? And I rather think we should give the Ministry a call.”

Five has never heard Major De Santa use that tone before. She wonders if there’s a history between the two women. If there isn't, one is certainly starting to form for them.

The door is pulled closed behind Morden, cutting off the rest of their conversation. Janine’s study falls into silence.

Sara is quiet for a moment after the door closes, and turns to look at Five. “Mouse?”

Five sighs, shoulders drooping. “Little Mouse. You know. ‘Quiet as a mouse and half as useful.’ He never bothered to learn my name or number. He said so many of us died or left that it wasn’t worth the effort keep up. All of his ‘favorites’ had nicknames.”

Sara narrows her eyes, and there's a slight twitch in her jaw. “I see.”

Her tone hasn’t changed in the least, but there's something about the way she says those two words that promises trouble for Morden in the future. Five is torn on whether she wants to see that or not. Morden is too clever by half, the kind of bully who knows exactly how to work the system against his victims while crying foul to the authority above them both.

This is all a nightmare. Maybe she should confess and save everyone the trouble.

Five rejects that thought almost the same moment she has it. She feels trapped and sick, and the world spins for a moment when the enormity of her situation settles completely.

Sara reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. “Five?”

Five blinks up at her, momentarily drawn out of her thoughts. Sara has that effect on her, and always seemed to recognize when Five is teetering on the edge of panic.

“We’ll get this figured out, Five.” She says, her voice low and calming, as if she's telling Five something blindingly obvious. “One way or the other. You can trust the Major.”

Five manages a weak smile. “I hope so.” She really isn't keen on being hanged for a crime she didn’t commit.

Morden returns, slamming the door closed behind him while he saunters over to the desk. “Major Stone and De Santa are calling the Ministry right now. Major De Santa doesn’t believe we have the authority to put you on trial, apparently. She’s wrong, of course.”

He rolls up the sleeves of his green jumper as he talks, resting a hip on the edge of the desk. That’s when she catches sight of the watch on his wrist. Silver, with gold trim, and a date etched into the metal. The sight was so familiar, so unexpected, that she can’t help but stare in shock. She’s seen that watch before.

“You like it, Mouse?” Morden says smugly, holding the watch up into the light. He hasn’t been taking care of it, and she can see several scratches and marks across the surface of the watch face. Her fists clench on the smooth wooden surface of the desk, and there’s a faint buzzing in her ears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears the echo of her grandfather’s voice. Morden continues, “I found it in some little house near the base. Seems someone had left it in an awful hurry. They smashed some poor old lady’s head in and left her husband locked up in their bedroom. I had to put him down, of course. And there’s no reason why he should get to keep such a fine watch when others can use it. It’s not like he needed it anymore.”

_“You like it, sprout?” Her grandfather’s voice is calm and gentle, deep but not booming--_

Five’s vision goes red. She’s on her feet and lurching for Morden’s throat, half over the table in an instant. A firm hand grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her back down into her chair, holding her there in a vice grip. Sara eyes her warily, squeezing her shoulder and giving her a tiny shake of the head. The message is clear: Stay calm. Five grits her teeth and forces herself to relax as much as he can.

That bastard. He knew it was her grandfather’s watch. Her grandparents had kept pictures of her all along the walls in their living room. She hadn’t taken those down when she had been forced to flee the house. _The absolute bastard--_

“Typical Mouse.” Morden scoffs at her, but she can see a new wariness to his eye. And, strangely, a smug grin, as if he’d just won some major victory.

“That certainly doesn’t bode well for your character, Runner Five.” Major Stone drawls from the door, flanked by a stone faced Major De Santa and Janine.

Five mentally curses. Morden had done that on purpose, set her up and provoked her into an outburst. Of course. He always played those sorts of games at Mullins, too. Just to drive home that he was in charge and could do as he pleased because the brass would always believe him before her.

She almost considers leaping across the table and pounding his face in regardless of the consequences. Sure, she’ll likely be hanged for it, but seeing the smug fuck lose a few teeth might almost be worth it.

Fortunately (or not) Major Stone interrupts Five, walking towards Janine’s desk.

“I made a call back to Mullins to look up your record while we waited for the Ministry to respond,” Major Stone says, dropping a thick notebook down on the desk between them. Dates, times, and work duties run down the length of the page. “You were a trouble maker. Six months at Mullins and you have a file thick enough to stop doors from all the punishment duties you earned. Including two weeks for breaking Sgt. Williams’ hand and three for striking a superior.” The woman looms over Five, bracing her hands against the table as she leans down towards her. Five thought that was rather dramatic, but the brass at Mullins have always made a show of their self-righteous anger. “That’s not helping your case, Runner Five, but I’m willing to cut you a deal: confess to the murder and I’ll see your death sentence is commuted. You’ll be sent to a Ministry prison farm to work off your time instead of being hanged.”

Five meets her gaze, unblinking, and signs slowly. She might have considered taking that deal earlier, but she’s still furious over Morden’s little game. Sara is good at reading her. She knows how to emphasize Five’s words for her. “I did not kill him. I’m not confessing to a crime I didn’t commit.”

Major Stone drops her head, sighs and leans back. The woman's theatrics grate on Five’s nerves. Judging by Major De Santa’s expression, she isn’t alone in that thought. “Very well. Court Martial it is. You will be judged before a tribunal made up of the local major settlements. Myself, Major De Santa, and a member of New Canton’s ruling council will decide on your punishment. The penalty for the murder of a soldier on active duty is hanging. I intend to nail you to the wall, Runner Five.”

Well, that should make for a fair trial. Five stays silent, and manages to keep her hands from shaking too hard. Morden shoots her a smug look from behind Major Stone and it takes all of Five’s willpower to keep from flipping him off.

Stone turns to Major De Santa. “I’ll go make the necessary arrangements. Send word if your runner changes her mind. Lieutenant? With me.”

Stone and Morden are barely out of the room before Sara lightly cuffs the back of Five’s head and hisses. “What the hell was that about, Five? We can’t very well convince them you’re calm and cool headed if you try to strangle one of their men unprovoked!”

Five rubs the back of her head, glancing off. “Morden was wearing my grandfather’s watch.”

  
Sara is silent for a moment, then sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course he was.”

“Sgt. Williams’ superiors insist you have something to do with it, Runner Five,” Major De Santa says, taking in Five’s appearance. Five can see the beginnings of a frown form; she must still look upset. “Mr. Yao is insistent that you’re innocent, and I’m inclined to agree, despite a few...holes in your story. However we will need solid proof to present to the military. Abel cannot afford to lose Mullins’ supplies or support over an incident like this, but I won't stand idly by while one of our runners is pushed into some kangaroo court.”

And that’s when Five realizes just how far the deck is stacked against her. Abel needs those supplies from Mullins Base to rebuild from Van Ark’s attack, and Lt. Morden would make it his personal mission to deny or delay every request they make of Mullins to get revenge on his fallen friend--unless Five confesses to a murder she didn’t commit.

At least, she’s pretty sure she didn’t commit it. She’s not sad about Sgt. Williams being dead, and she likes to think that she isn't a murderer, but if there was ever a man she wouldn't mind killing…

“You’re off the run schedule until this is all sorted out.” Major De Santa continues, “I’d take care to avoid the Mullins soldiers while you're at it. It seems this Sgt. Williams was a good friend of theirs, and some of them could be itching for a fight.”

“They’ll regret starting one,” Sara says, her temper finally coming loose.

“I won’t tolerate any nonsense, Smith.” De Santa says sharply. “Keep your distance. That goes for all of the runners, in fact.”

She looks over to Five. “Go get some rest, Five. Try not to draw any attention to yourself until the trial.”

“Yes, Major.” Five says, suddenly exhausted. She stands up from the desk, utterly wrung out, and stuck in a living nightmare. Hopefully Major De Santa will keep her word, but Five knows which side she’ll choose if it comes down to one runner and the stable future of the township.

“C’mon, Five.” Sara says, standing up with her. “Maxine will want to do a check up on you, and then we’ll go get some food. You must be starving. I know I am.”

 

* * *

 

The rec room is a quiet and subdued place these days. Most civilians are still living as refugees in New Canton, and the few who came back to Abel are either construction workers or farmers, both professions that encouraged one to sleep early and often in the wake of the sort of disaster Abel has suffered. That left the rec room to the runners, who are equally exhausted but need to spend time among their friends after their work is done; spending days on end among the walking dead without unwinding with some friends can have disastrous consequences to one’s mental health.  
Still, there's a somber mood in the small building tonight. Sara’s seen it worse than this, but only barely. She watches the other runners from a far corner, slowly running a whetstone down along edge of her favorite knife. Most seem lost in their own world, either exhausted from their runs or puzzling over the latest crisis to hit Abel. It seems no one quite knows what to think of the charges aimed at Five.

The only person moving about the room is Simon. He’s got a small box tucked under his arm, and is plucking spiders out of various hiding places before dropping them into the box. Evan’s dog, Bonnie, is trotting along behind him as he moves around the small room, wagging her tail slowly, and curiously nosing the box until Simon gently nudges her back with a quiet laugh.

Evan has just made it back from his stay at Bert Airfield. He hasn’t said much since he heard the news; he’s gone quiet and thoughtful instead, separating himself from the others. Sara wishes she knew what was going on in that man’s mind. He's too secretive for her liking, and far too clever for a man who claims a boring, but refined background.

Not that she has any right to complain, of course. She has quite a few secrets of her own to keep these days.

“Sara? You were military, right?” Jody asks suddenly, puzzling over her newest project. It looks like a small hat. Her nervousness is getting to her again. She barely started the hat this afternoon and is already nearly halfway done. “You mentioned being at Mullins before. Do you think they're right about Five being violent? Did you hear anything while you were there?”

“Mullins is a big base,” Sara says, watching as Simon casually picks up another spider from the back corner before tossing it into the small box. Autumn has started to creep in, and all of the spring spiders have moved into shelters for warmth. A few have gotten big and fat, nearing to the size of Simon’s palm. “More like a city. They split sections of it into blocks when the civilians came in. I never went farther than A-Block myself. Five was in C-Block. The civilian soldier block.”

Jody sighs, “Oh. I was hoping--I mean, if we could convince that Mullins woman that Five isn’t actually as bad as she's heard, then maybe...”

“Afraid I can’t help you there, Jody.” Sara gives her a sympathetic look, slowly moving the whetstone along the edge of her knife. Simon casually swipes another spider out from under Cameo’s feet. Yang, always near Cameo, hands him another with a big grin. Simon takes it gratefully and drops that one into his box as well. How many had he caught? Ten?

Jody goes quiet for a few moments, thinking, and then. “Why are you catching spiders, Simon?”

“Best you don't ask, Jody.” Sara says. She half regrets telling Simon about Morden’s reaction to the spider in Janine’s study, but she just can't quite bring herself to stop him. She's still getting back into the groove of things at Abel and hadn’t realized how close Five and Simon had grown in her absence. The man has a mischievous streak in him a mile wide, and he's eager to cause a bit of trouble for the Mullins soldiers.

Sara makes a note to mention that to the Major and Janine. Abel’s runners are a tight knit group; things could get ugly if the Mullins people take things too far, and there were plenty of hotheads among their own ranks that make trouble likely.

Simon gives Jody a charming grin and tucks in another spider from the back of the bookshelf. He pauses to ruffle Bonnie’s ears before sauntering for the door. “Be back in a moment!”

“Er. Right, okay.” Jody frowns after Simon in frank confusion. He ducks out of the rec room, shutting the door behind him and heading in the direction of the Mullins tents. Bonnie whines at the door, flopping down to the ground with a dramatic sigh. She likes trailing after Simon, but following him out into the cold wind is apparently a step too far her.

Sara suspects Lt. Morden is going to find some unwanted guests in his bunk tonight. She might have to wander by the Mullins tents later when he discovers his brand new friends.

“Sara.” Evan says quietly, lifting his head up to look at her. He still has that thoughtful expression on his face, the one he’s worn more and more often these days. “What can we expect at the trial?”

Sara leans back in her chair, pulling her knife back to test the edge of with her thumb. “Court Martials at this level call for a tribunal, usually full of people with high rank. Mullins has Major Stone, we have Major De Santa, and New Canton is sending over their resident security expert from their Permanent Advisory Council. I suppose that's the closest they’ve got to military out that way.”

Evan nods. He had an intense look about him these days, and he’d withdrawn himself since the Major returned. He’s always kept himself somewhat separate from the other runners, but lately he’s been doing it more. “So no trial of her peers.”

Sara shakes her head. “I suppose it makes sense. No one in Abel can be considered impartial, and Lord knows you can't bus in people for a proper jury selection these days.”

“Is Mullins interested in a fair trial?” His tone tells her he already knows the answer.

“I’d say not.” That's putting it lightly! No wonder Five had been nervous about being forced to return to Mullins so long ago. It's unnerving to know just how poorly treated her friend had been there. Especially since Sara herself had been there during the same time and had a perfectly pleasant experience. “The evidence doesn’t paint Five as innocent, and that man, Lt. Morden, has a vendetta against her.”

“And New Canton doesn’t care either way, so long as the supply line starts again.” Evan says this with a sigh, reaching up to rub his temple. Bonnie perks up from the door and moves over to him, dropping her furry head on his knee and wagging her tail up at him. Evan’s expression softens, and he reaches down to scritch behind her ears.

“The Major won’t just throw Five aside.” Sara says, sheathing her knife. “Neither will Janine. Something about this is bothering her.”

“Hm.” Evan has always been professional around Janine, but they certainly weren’t friends. She respected him for the way he led the runners, and he’s always been perfectly polite in return. Their relationship could be considered professional and nothing more. He goes silent again, thinking.

Sara watches him from the corner of her eye, then clears her throat. He glances up from Bonnie and quirks a brow at her in silent question. “Five is going to need a translator for the trial. The Major can’t do it and sit on the tribunal, the Mullins people can’t understand a word of sign language, and New Canton’s representative won’t know it either.”

Jody pipes up from the corner. “I thought you said one of the Mullins people was Five’s old boss? Lt. Morden? Wouldn’t he know it?”

“Apparently not.” Sara says dryly, “I had to play translator for him, too. I’d volunteer again, but I’m afraid my patience around that man is rather lacking. I might end up on trial myself.” She scoffs, “The man’s a vicious idiot, the sort of bully I’d hoped hadn’t survived the apocalypse.”

Evan reads between the lines of that statement and his expression darkens further. “I’ll do it. I’m Head of Runners, which means she’s one of my people. When is the trial taking place?”

“As soon as New Canton sends their man. It could take them a week, depending on travel. New Canton doesn’t do anything fast.”

“We can work with that.” Evan frowns for a moment, then nods, coming to a decision. “Tell the runners I want to speak with them. I’ll meet with them in their rooms. And don't mention these meetings to Major De Santa or Runner Five. Best they're kept out of the loop for now.”


	3. Faces Old And New

“Good morning, cit-iz-ens!” Phil Cheeseman comes across as a bit tinny on the radio’s speakers, and his voice is interrupted with the occasional burst static, distorting his words, “We interrupt our regular programming for a quick news update: Mullins Base has grounded all airdrops for the foreseeable future following the murder of one of their soldiers at an airdrop location west of Abel Township. A full investigation can’t be completed due to increased zombie activity in the woods. Mullins command has accused Abel Township Runner Five of the murder. Runner Five was seen fleeing the scene of the crime, covered in blood--”

“Yeah, that’s a load of rubbish!” Jack’s voice cuts in sharp and angry. “No Abel runner would butcher someone like that! Everyone knows those woods are _swarming_ with bandits--”

“I’m just reading the report, Jack,” Phil replies, flustered and annoyed at being interrupted, “Like a proper radio host--”

“Proper! Insinuating someone's guilty of murder before a trial can even start counts as proper, does it!”

Zoe’s voice cuts in, full of fake cheer with an undercurrent of exasperation. “We’ll be back right after this song, everyone!”

Five sighs as Sam’s hand snaps up and flips the radio off halfway through the opening notes of Blondie’s “One Way Or Another.” He gives her a sympathetic look before swiveling his chair back around in his chair to guide his runner. She knew it was inevitable for the news to reach New Canton, but she hadn’t wanted to be the indirect cause for more bickering among the radio hosts. Five decides to push it out of her mind and go back to the task at hand. Hopefully the radio hosts settle their argument peacefully.

It’s chilly in the comms shack, despite the heat from all of the electronics, and Sam tucks his hands into the sleeves of his orange hoodie while he works. One of the township cats, Simon’s cat, is draped across the top of his main monitor, and Sam has to occasionally hold back the cat’s tail flicking across the screen to see it properly. The cat tolerates this indignity with only the occasional reproachful meow. On the other side of the shack, the door rattles open and then closes. Someone leaving a message, probably.

“Okay, Eight,” He says, fiddling with the monitor controls to try and get a clearer picture through the static, “I can see you on cams. You’ve got a pack of seven shamblers coming along behind you and--um, who is that with you?”

“A stranger I found outside of town,” Sara replies. She doesn’t sound thrilled by it. “Found him stuck up a tree earlier. He says he was invited to the township by Major Stone. I’m bringing him back with me.”

“Er, right, in that case, take the eastern path back,” Sam pulls down a map, knocking a few others off of the table and sending one rolling across the floor over to Five. “You’re almost home free--”

It’s been a busy few days at the township since the Mullins delegation settled in. New Canton begs off sending their representative due to a fire that’s destroyed a substantial amount of their food stockpiles, and that’s put everything in limbo. Every time Janine contacts Esteban for a timeframe, she's begged off or given a vague answer of 'When we can spare a member of the PAC from their duties.' 

Abel is stretched thin as it is, and with Five confined to the township for the duration of the investigation and trial, most of the runners are pulling double duty. It’s starting to wear the team down. Sam glances over to the corner of the shack, catches Five’s eye, and gives her a half hearted, reassuring smile. She does her best to return it. It’s doesn’t feel very convincing, but Sam perks up by the tiniest of margins.

Major Stone has blocked off the midday and mid afternoon for her soldiers to use the exercise track, so that leaves the few runners with no missions or work assignments at a loss. With Five blocked from doing runs, it’s made for a few hellishly tense and boring days, stuck between cleaning up the rubble around town, answering questions from fellow runners, and avoiding Mullins soldiers. Five has been helping Sam at the comms shack for lack of anything better to do. He always needs more help sorting through the supplies runners bring back, and Five could use the friendly company.

She’s off to the side of the shack, near the supply drop site. Empty backpacks line the wall, all of them well worn and in various colors and sizes, each with a number stitched into the straps or on the front. Five’s backpack is obvious by its absence. A new one hasn’t been found for her yet, not that it matters at the moment. She’s spooling up some copper wire that Evan and Cameo hauled in earlier, checking it for kinks and breaks that Janine would need to know about. It’s boring busy work, but it keeps her out of sight of Major Stone and Lt. Morden. There were some ugly rumors roaming across the township that a few of the more hot headed members of the Mullins delegation might be tempted to take matters into their own hands if they caught her alone in the township. They were just rumors, but Major De Santa still ordered that Five keep close to a fellow runner or radio operator until this whole situation could be resolved. That had been pretty easy to accomplish; Sam pretty much recruited her to be his unofficial partner for the time being. She didn’t mind spending more time with him, but she ached to go back out on runs, if only to put some distance between herself and the Mullins personnel.

At least she won’t see any of them near the comms shack or gates. Janine made it perfectly clear that she wouldn’t tolerate any Mullins personnel interfering with the runners, and outright stated that they were not welcome at the comms shack unescorted. Major Stone agreed, partially as a show of good faith, but also because Five suspects the woman was a tad intimidated by Janine.

Five tugs at the tangle of wire, trying to handle it carefully. A spider crawls out from within the pile and she moves to shoo it away. God, they’ve been everywhere lately.

  
“Hold it, Five!” Simon says, suddenly _there_ . Five was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come into the shack. He reaches in and snatches the spider up, tossing it inside a small box tucked under his arm. Five stares at him in confusion, trying to decide if she wants to know what sort of game he’s playing at today. Simon grins and offers no answer, rocking back and forth on his heels in the most aggravating way possible. He _wants_ her to ask, and Five is almost petty enough to ignore it. Almost.

Except Simon tends to pout and sulk if no one indulges him, and Five figures she’s got the brooding and sulking market covered inside Abel until Major Stone and her soldiers leave. She might as well indulge him. It's not like spooling up wire is all that mentally stimulating.

Five rolls her eyes, then puts the cable down to sign. “What are you doing, Simon?”

“Special project,” Simon grins at her, his eyes bright with mischief as he gives her a charming grin. “I’ll tell you about it later. By the way, if Janine or the Major come asking after me, tell them you didn't see me.”

Five tilts her head up at the man, squinting her eyes at him. A few moments later, a realization hits her and she gives him a small smile. “You wouldn’t be the reason why the Mullins soldiers kicked up a fuss the other day, would you?”

Simon grins. “Of course not, Five! Major De Santa and Janine have made it perfectly clear we’re supposed to be as kind and welcoming as possible. Throwing a box of spiders inside an arachnophobe’s tent wouldn’t be very _friendly_ now would it?”

“No, that wouldn’t be very nice at all,” Five signs back, then a wicked gleam hits her eye. “And you shouldn’t aim the next box for the green mesh bag at the foot of his sleeping bag. He definitely doesn’t keep his underwear there.”

“Yeah, that would be a nightmare wouldn’t it? Especially since the little brown ones bite so much,” Simon laughs, heading for the comms shack door. He opens it and ducks through, calling back inside as the door closes behind him. “Thanks for the chat, Five!”

Five snickers, turning back to the wire she had dropped and finds Sam sitting backwards on his chair, watching her with a curious and faintly amused look on his face.

“Do I want to know why you know where Morden keeps his underwear?” Sam asks, tilting his head.

“He made me do his laundry for him at Mullins,” She signs, shrugging. He frowns, and she grins. “Or he did until all these spiders mysteriously started to show up in his underwear drawer. And there was that unfortunate incident with the purple and pink dye that was set near the laundry detergent in the laundry room. Tie-dye is fun, by the way. We should try it sometime.”

Sam snickers. “Right. How very mysterious.”

“How’s it looking, Sam?” Sara’s voice comes through loud and clear, drawing Sam back to his work. He whirls around in his chair to face the equipment on his desk, nudging the cat’s paw away from his monitor.

“Looking good, Eight,” He says, checking the scanner and adjusting his headphones. “You’re in sight of the gates now, and the snipers are lining to take care of the zombs. This should be your last run for the day, too."

“I’m still good for another,” Sara says between pants. There’s an edge of exhaustion to her voice, the one that comes across as anger more than tiredness. “There’s plenty I can go back for--”

“Yeah, I know, but Janine’s only letting us do three runs per day per runner. This was your third,” Sam cuts her off. Outside, the gate alarms go off and the guards rifles start up, picking off the trail of shambling zombs following Sara home. “You need to rest! And besides, I’m off comms for the rest of the day after this. I’ve got an appointment.”

Sara sighs, “Right, guess I’ll find something else to do then.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something,” Sam says, then clicks off the radio and leans back in his chair, popping his neck. The cat draped across the top of his monitor continues purring, idly reaching out to swipe at an errant strand of hair. Sam reaches up to gently scritch behind the cat’s ears, then stands up and smiles at Five.

“I’m ready for a bit of fresh air, personally,” He says, walking over to the door. “How about you? You’ve been at that for hours.”

Five perks up and nods. She considers the pile of wire she’d been working on and then marks it off on the inventory sheet before walking towards the door with him. She’s eager to get some fresh air. As much as she likes spending time with Sam, she can’t help but feel pent up and restless whenever she’s indoors for too long. It’s a side effect of being a runner, most likely.

Sam pushes the door open for them and they both step outside. He shivers and pulls his hands back inside his hoodie, muttering about the cold. Five moves past Sam and takes in a deep breath, relaxing as the chill autumn wind hits her full force. It’s cloudy, and leaves scatter across the dirt road leading from the gates, swirling around her feet as she steps outside. Guards and runners chat amongst themselves, and the mood is relatively high despite the gloomy clouds and chill air.

Evan’s near the gates, chatting quietly with one of the guards on duty, and he holds up a hand in greeting when he sees Sam and Five walk out of the comms shack. He’s waiting for Sara to come in, as he does for most solo runners. Five waves back, but he’s already turned back towards the gates as they rattle on their tracks, slowly rising up.

Sara jogs through the gates and slows to a walk, shrugging off an overloaded rucksack and dropping it down on the ground in front of her. She huffs, trying to catch her breath, then paces around in a wide circle and starting her stretches.

A man wearing glasses, khakis, and a white button down shirt follows in behind her, though he settles for bending over to brace himself against his knees and gulp in air for a few moments rather than stretch. Five takes a moment to recognize him. Ian Golightly has lost a bit of weight since she last saw him. Sara keeps her distance from him, giving the man a cool, considering look while she stretches her left arm over her head.

Sam is surprised to see Ian come through the gates behind Sara. “Ian? What are you doing here?”

“Why, I’m here for the trial, of course!” His face is flushed beneath his glasses, and the grin he gives Sam is positively beaming. He pauses to catch his breath, and then continues, his words coming out quickly, as if he can barely contain his excitement. “Someone needs to be here to record it, after all. Lots of people want to know what’s happening at Abel! Oh, this story has everything--drama, _murder_ , politics. Just like those old shows. Think of the ratings!”

Five barely keeps from giving out an exasperated sigh. This is all she needs, really. A press circus forming up around her and Abel by extension. How much worse can this get?

The trouble of it was, she actually kind of likes Ian. He was just so _earnest_ and eager to please during their run together when he was trying to get information for his fluff piece about Abel. It was hard to not like someone that driven. And he was a good writer, though she may be slightly biased from the glowing description he wrote about her and Abel as a whole. He really seemed to like the township. And they did escape zombies together; that tended to forge bonds.

Still, this is literally the last thing Five needs.

“I don’t think ratings are even a thing anymore, Ian,” Sam says, sounding both amused and exasperated. Five nods in agreement.

“Shows what you know,” Ian sniffs as he looks across the township, his eyes falling on Janine’s house. The look he gives her home is positively wistful. “Oh. That’s a beautiful house. I’d like to live in a place like that one day.”

Sam laughs, “Yeah, not likely, mate. No one comes by houses like that honestly anymore.”

Ian shoots him a sour look and grumbles, as if offended somehow. He stalks off for the dorm area to go set up his tent. Five wonders how Janine will react to this; she had been slightly dismissive of the man before. She might not be happy to know the reporter was in town, and she definitely won’t be happy to hear he’s come to witness the trial. She had barely tolerated him during that supply run they did together.

Sam stares after the journalist, confused, and then shrugs before giving Five a warm smile. “Guess he’s tired or something. Exercise can make you cranky if you aren't used to it.”

Sara comes a stop near them, watching as Ian disappears from view, a frown forming on her face. “I don’t like that man. Something’s off about him. It's the eyes, I think.”

“He’s harmless!” Sam laughs, “You’re too paranoid, Sara. He barely survived his run with Five.”

“Hm,” Sara looks anything but convinced, but shrugs. “Maybe you’re right, Sam.”

“Anyway, I should be going,” Sam squeezes Five’s arm. “Janine told me Morden wanted to talk to me today. Shouldn't take too long.”

Five tenses. Logically she knows that Morden can’t use any of his old tricks on Sam, but there’s an undercurrent of fear regardless. If she had things her way, Sam would be on the other side of the planet, as far away from Edward Morden as possible. “Be careful. Okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam says, giving her a warm, reassuring grin. He punctuates this with a quick squeeze to her hand. “He probably just wants to go over transmission logs or something. It won’t take any time at all. We’ll meet at the rec room later, okay?”

Five nods, squeezing his hand tight before letting go. Sam ducks off, jogging towards the farmhouse. Janine had been gracious enough to offer the Mullins officers the use of part of her home for the duration of their stay. On the surface, such an offer looked like a professional courtesy, an acknowledgement and sign of respect for rank. Five wasn’t quite so sure. She suspected Janine was perfectly capable of listening in on whatever took place in her home.

She hopes Janine will do that during whatever conversation Sam has with Morden. Morden is just dumb enough to underestimate Janine.

Sara drops her arm, then pops her neck and winces with a quiet curse, drawing Five out of her thoughts. Five tilts her head at her, “Are you okay?”

“Getting old’s a scam, Five,” She says dryly, “Avoid it if you can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Five says, a tiny bit amused despite herself. Sara sometimes reminded her of that old vodka aunt stereotype, except far more frightening and clever. She would, of course, never tell her that.

“I’d best be going myself. Someone ought to warn Janine about that reporter running free in her township,” Sara says, “I’ll catch up with you later, Five.”

Five waves after Sara and then glances around, at a loss. She wants to run, but that isn’t possible, and the thought of sorting through yet another bag of supplies is far from appealing. Still, it was something to do. She did have a few hours to kill before dinner.

God, if prison is anything like this, she’ll be driven mad within a week.

“Runner Five, if I could have a moment?” Evan calls out, walking towards her from the gates. “I need to speak with you.”

Five tilts her head and then nods. Evan has sought her out a lot over the past few days, asking questions about Mullins or the soldiers. He’s asked her about the murder as well, but dropped it once he realized she truly doesn’t remember. She’s noticed him taking time to meet with all of the runners stationed at Abel. He and Sara have been out on runs together more than usual, an oddity since he usually tends to pair up less experienced runners with veterans.

Evan stops next to her, a slight frown forming on his face, as if he's trying to decide how to proceed. “I wanted to talk to you about this Mullins situation if I can. I understand you’re not exactly thrilled at the thought of it, but if I’m going to help represent you at the trial, there are some things we should go over.”

Five reluctantly nods. There _are_ some things she needs to talk about. Namely how she knows--knew--Sgt. Williams. That promised to be a fun conversation for all involved, and it wasn’t necessarily one she was eager to have with Evan. Still, it was perfectly possible Mullins wouldn’t bring it up at all. Williams hadn’t exactly come across as an innocent soul during their altercation, and Morden had almost certainly buried her complaint and report against him to save face.

“Excellent. Let’s speak in your dorm--” A voice from across the gates rings out, cutting him off.

“Mouse? Mouse! Oh, man, it really is you!” Five recognizes the voice, but she can’t place it right away. She blinks, looking around among the guards and runners. There are a few Mullins people hanging around, but most have kept their distance from the gates and runners in general. Major Stone and Major De Santa are united in that front: any scuffles between Abel’s runners and Mullins’ soldiers will be dealt with harshly on both sides, regardless of who started it.

Evan eyes the soldiers warily. He tilts his head at her, asking quietly. “Mouse?”

“Only the soldiers used their real names at Mullins,” Five signs, still looking for the source of that voice. “Everyone else was given a nickname. It helped if someone disappeared. Supposedly.”

“I see,” The more she explains how Mullins works, the deeper Evan’s frowns become and the tighter he locks his jaw.

At least he doesn’t ask her how she got her nickname. That was nice of him.

“Mouse! Hey! Over here!” There’s the source. One of the Mullins soldiers is coming towards them from the mess hall. He stands out like a sore thumb in his uniform khakis and green jumpers. Five recognizes him, and perks up a tiny bit. She could count the number of people she considers friends from Mullins on one hand, and one is coming towards her now. She hadn’t realized he’d been with the delegation.

The soldier is a tall, lanky young man wearing an ill fitting uniform with his dog tags hanging out over his shirt. His black hair is short, but sticks out in tufts at odds with the proper cut of most of the rest of the soldiers. His shoulders are hunched and he nervously glances around at the runners nearby, avoiding looking any of them in the eye. He does, however, catch Five’s eye for a brief moment and smiles, his dull brown eyes lighting up when he sees her.

Five can’t help but smile at him, signing at him slowly and carefully. “Smokey?” She had only ever heard his nickname, not his given name. She tilts her head, taking in his appearance. “You got a promotion?”

It takes a few tries for Smokey to understand her, and finally Evan steps in to act as a translator. Smokey really is rusty on his sign language, but he's _trying_ which is more than she could say for anyone from Mullins. More importantly, he was still focused on _her_ in the conversation and not Evan working as her translator, which had been a frequent frustration for her before the end of the world.

“Yeah, they finally promoted me from civilian peon to full blown soldier. I can’t believe it. They treat you so much better,” He certainly didn’t look much better than when he was working the burn pits at Mullins. Dark bags hang under his eyes, and his skin is pale; it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Considering he was at Morden’s beck and call, that was quite possible. Smokey shuffles some, putting a bit of distance between himself and Evan, who’s watching the younger man coolly. “It’s been awhile, yeah? Seems like yesterday we were digging out latrines and burning trash and bodies for Morden at three in the morning together.”

Five frowns. “He doesn’t force you to do that still, does he?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Smokey shrugs again. “I’m used to it. I don’t even cough that much anymore.”

“Smokey! Wait up!” Another soldier comes from the mess hall, jogging towards them. Smokey goes pale and shifts around nervously until he recognizes the speaker. Five can feel her heart break for him. They had both been at the absolute bottom of the hierarchy back at Mullins, and it seems like Smokey has never gotten over that mentality, even after getting promoted.

The newcomer is a short, dark skinned woman with close cropped brown hair and tired eyes. She carries herself with a confident military gait, not unlike Major De Santa. Five hasn’t seen Sgt. Vaughn since her last assignment at Mullins before being added to Project Greenshoot, and she’s surprised to see her out here at all. Vaughn had been in the Administration block the last time Five had seen her. A-Block rarely slummed it up with C-Blockers like Morden and Smokey.

“You ran off before I could give your work schedule, private. You’ll be part of a scouting run tomorrow morning,” Vaughn says, handing over a small piece of paper. Smokey takes the duty schedule from her. Vaughn smiles at Five, giving her a respectful nod. “I’m glad to see you again, Mouse. Despite the circumstances.”

“You’re awfully friendly for belonging to a group accusing Five of murder,” Evan points out, watching the two soldiers closely. He emphasizes Five’s name when he speaks.

Smokey ducks his head down and avoids Evan’s eye, but Vaughn matches his gaze evenly. “That’s because we know she didn’t do it. Morden’s a blowhard, and Stone hasn’t caught onto it yet. She will, eventually.”

Evan seems surprised by Vaughn’s candid tone, but Five isn’t. Vaughn had always been kind to her at Mullins, and she was never a fan of the leadership there. She was also one of the few to actually bother trying to have a conversation with her. Aside from Smokey, anyway.

Five signs to her slowly. “It’s good to see you both again. Kind of.”

Vaughn never quite got the hang of sign language, but Evan translates for her. God, Five forgot how tiring it was trying to communicate with people who didn't understand her. That Abel had gone so far to help her feel at home and accommodate her was a small miracle in Five’s experience; it hadn't been very common before the apocalypse either.

“You too, Five,” Vaughn says, folding her hands behind her back. “It’s nice to see you doing well.”

Smokey grins shyly, “Minus the part where we’re part of the crew putting you on trial and potentially ruining your life, that is.”

Five gives him an amused look. “Sure, but other than _that…_ ”

Vaughn snorts. “Don’t worry, Five. Things will work out in the end. The only people mourning Williams are Stone and Morden. Everyone else knew what kind of a man he was.”

Smokey bobs his head up and down, still keeping a shy distance from Evan, who tilts his head at Vaughn. “They’ll realize you couldn’t have done it soon enough. Then everything can go back to normal--”

“Vaughn! Smokey!” Morden's voice rings out sharply across the yard near the gate, cutting Smokey off. Most of the crowd goes silent, caught off guard by the man’s sharp tone, and the nearest Abel guards tighten their grips on their rifles.

“I had thought Major Stone’s orders were quite clear, soldiers,” Morden says drawing up short to glower at the small group. Smokey pales, all but cringing back from him while Vaughn sets her jaw, watching Morden warily. Evan narrows his eyes, but doesn’t draw attention to himself just yet; Morden’s more concerned with the Mullins soldiers in front of him. “Only myself or Major Stone are to speak with _any_ Abel personnel. No exceptions.”

“I just wanted to say hi to--” Smokey says.

“No. Exceptions.” Morden growls. He pauses for a moment to take in Smokey’s appearance and his expression darkens further. “My god, man, do you have no pride for that uniform?"

Smokey looks confused and nervous, his eyes twitching around as if looking for an escape. “Uh, sir?”

“Stand up straight! And get those dogtags in order!" Morden snaps. Smokey jumps, standing up straight and quickly tucking his dog tags under his shirt. Morden makes a show of looking over Smokey’s uniform, stalking around the younger man slowly before shaking his head. “Both of you get out of my sight. If I catch either of you near any Abel runners, I'll have you digging out latrines for the next three years.”

The two soldiers salute Morden, and then quickly turn to leave. Morden doesn’t bother to return the salute, nor does he notice the hateful look Smokey casts over his shoulder at him. Five’s taken aback by that; Smokey had never been that blatant with his disgust back at Mullins. In fact, she had never seen him do more than sulk whenever Morden started in on him.

That look worries her. Everyone has their limit, even someone as mild mannered and shy as Smokey.

Morden turns his focus on Five, ignoring Evan completely. Evan narrows his eyes at the man, but keeps his peace for now.

“Have you decided to confess yet?” Morden asks lightly. He continues, using the friendly, concerned tone of a disappointed superior. “You really are making a show of this, Mouse. There’s no need for the good people of Abel to suffer for the sake of your ego.”

That's rich coming from him. Five isn’t much in the mood to deal with him today and, frankly, she’s feeling a bit petty. “Go suck a cactus.”

She makes sure to spell it out with her signing, just fast enough that only someone fluent in sign language would understand.

“She says her previous statement still stands,” Evan says dryly, quirking a brow at her. She manages to maintain a perfectly innocent expression, secure in the knowledge that Morden wouldn’t understand a word.

Morden sighs, placing his hands on his hips and looking up into the sky as if seeking guidance. “Well, I suppose that's to be expected. You know Major Stone’s door is always open. She’s still willing to pull for hard labor, in light of your good service to Abel. That’s a generous offer, all things considered.

Five’s only response is a flat stare. She looks him in the eye for a few moments (and part of her still hates how nervous that makes her) and then slowly turns, grabbing Sara’s rucksack to unpack and sort supplies. She hopes he’ll take it as a dismissal.

She isn’t that lucky, of course.

“What’s that on your armband there? Some sort of rank?” Morden sounds positively amused. Evan’s expression darkens, and the muscles in his jaw twitch. “Are you lot given _rank_ now?”

He points at the small red braids sewn on either side of the 5 on her armband. Five ignores him.

Evan does not. He steps forward, putting himself between Five and Morden and turning to face the Mullins officer. Morden blinks at him, as if noticing him for the first time.

“Those are given to runners who save the lives of their comrades while in the field,” Evan says, setting his jaw, and clasping his hands behind his back. “Five earned two of those during her training alone. She’s still missing a few, truth be told.”

Morden laughs. “Mouse? Standards must be low out here in the sticks. She wasn't much of a team player at Mullins. She certainly never extended herself beyond what was necessary when I gave her assignments.”

Five feels her face go red from anger. She should be used to his mockery (and depressingly enough _had_ been used to it at one point), but time spent away from Morden has only made her sensitive to his petty remarks. She stiffly sorts through Sara’s pack, doing her best to ignore him. It’s much lighter than normal. Sara must be more exhausted than she’s letting on.

“I rather think that's a reflection of your leadership rather than Five’s skill,” Evan says coldly, still standing between Five and Morden. His hands are balled into fists behind his back.

“My skills will get me much farther than babysitting some civvies out in the hinterlands,” Morden says dryly, and his tone turns smug. “There’s a whole world out there for people like me. A new one, to be built on top of the old. And there are others who think just like me.”

Five sees Evan go stiff out of the corner of her eye. He shoots Morden another glare, this one much more intense.

She’s completely lost. Had Morden been drinking? What the hell was he even _talking_ about? And what had he said that caused Evan to react like that?

“Don't you have something you should be doing, Morden?” Evan asks, “Why are you here?”

Morden shrugs in response. “I came over to make sure Vaughn and her little assistant weren't causing any trouble. And to find that radio operator of yours. We’re supposed to discuss what he heard over the radio the day Mouse killed Williams--”

“You have no proof of that,” Evan says.

Morden continues as if he hadn’t heard him. “--and he's half an hour late, spending time with Mouse in his little radio box. Not a good look for him, I'm afraid,” He sighs. “Now I have to wonder if he was trying to get his story straight with her.”

Evan snorts. “Sam Yao is utterly incapable of that level of deception. He can barely keep a straight face in poker.”

“Everyone’s capable of lying to protect their friends, Mr. Deaubl,” Morden says with an arrogant sniff.

Five scowls. Morden would know all about that with the way he ran things in his block at Mullins.

Evan glares at Morden, regarding him with a cold silence that would have sent most Abel runners scrambling for the hills. It's rare for Abel’s Head Runner to show his disappointment. Five has never known him to look _angry_ except in the most dire circumstances. Something about Morden rubs him the wrong way.

Morden hesitates when he sees it. Evan’s a large man, bigger than Morden, and sporting the kind of strength one gains from constant training and exercise. Morden is no slouch himself, but Five knows the man spends most of his time inside a safe military base and often has some poor schlub haul his pack around for him during field excursions. Five had played pack mule for him more than a few times; he’d said it was refreshing not getting any backtalk from his ‘assistant.’

“Oh! Lieutenant! Lieutenant Morden! Ian Golightly of the New Times!” The news reporter jogs up to the group, notepad and pen in hand. “Do you have a moment for an interview?”

Morden quirks a brow at the journalist, then gives his best winning smile. “Of course, Mr. Golightly. I’d be happy to speak with you until my next appointment. We’ll have to do it while moving about the township, if that's alright. I have duties to see to.”

Ian’s excitement is all but palpable. “Excellent! Now, let's start with the basics--”

The two men walk off, Ian furiously scribbling in his notebook and bobbing his head up and down while Morden casually strolls alongside him with his hands clasped behind his back, head held high.

Five barely restrains herself from flipping him off from behind his back.

Evan’s still glaring after Morden even after the man disappears from view. “If you’ll excuse me, Five. I’ve got something I need to see to. We’ll pick up our discussion another time.”

Five nods and Evan walks past her, briefly laying his hand on her shoulder and squeezing before moving towards the dorms. Five turns back to the supplies stashed in Sara’s pack and works in silence, reflecting on everything that just happened. She ducks back into the comms shack to sort out the supplies Sara brought back, carefully setting her backpack down against the wall.

It isn’t as though she has much else to do these days. Might as well be useful _somehow._

 

* * *

Five tosses and turns on her bed, alternating between kicking off her blankets and yanking them back over her when the cold air gets to be too much. She can't get comfortable, no matter what position she lays in. She can't go run; the Major had been firm about her not doing anything to make it easier for Mullins to persecute her, and moving around in the dark after curfew definitely counted for that. She didn't have any new books to read, and even if she did, she certainly didn’t have enough candles to keep lit to read by. And the radio had gone silent after Phil’s quiet prayer for the departed near midnight. She has nothing to distract her from her thoughts, and that’s something she desperately needs at the moment.

She sighs, kicking off the blankets again to stand up. She starts to pace. She can’t just _sit still_ anymore. Running helps her think, but that isn’t possible. Hopefully Sara won’t mind her moving about so late; she’s come up to remind Five that there are people living in the rooms below her. Five might get a bit of leniency on it tonight, though.

She’s scared. Terrified, actually. Mullins is powerful, and their supplies and support are absolutely necessary for the township to recover fully from Van Ark’s attack. Morden has made it clear he’s going to do everything in his power to either get her to confess or convict her in this court martial. Major De Santa and Janine have both made their support for Five known, but Five knows their duty lies with the township above all. If Five becomes too much of a liability, they could withdraw that support. In fact, they more than likely would. They might not be happy about it, and Mullins will definitely feel their displeasure, but if it comes down between saving the township or saving one runner....

  
Well. She knows where she stands if it comes to that. And she wouldn’t blame them for it either.

Leave it to Mullins to fuck up her new life at Abel. Just when she was starting to forget them, when she was finally able to focus on the future. Sure, that future involved a literal mad scientist and working in a profession not known for longevity, but it was still _hers._ And Mullins is threatening to take that away. It just isn’t _fair._

She paces, moving back and forth across her room, falling into a slight trance. It isn’t as good as running, but it’s enough for her to work off some of that nervous energy. She hears footsteps in the hall and stops, tilting her head. It’s past midnight, and the guard shift has already changed. Who…?

The door to Sam’s room opens, then shuts. Five frowns. She hadn’t seen him at dinner or in the rec room earlier. Had Morden been questioning him that long? She could see it. He’d want to catch Sam out in a lie or confuse him by rephrasing the same question over and over again until he made a mistake. She’d seen him do that before, when he was looking for a reason to dress someone down at Mullins.

The dorm has gone silent again. Five puts her pacing on pause. Sam often has trouble falling asleep if there’s a lot noise in the building. She shouldn’t add to his troubles.

She lays down, tossing and turning for another hour before finally falling asleep.

 

* * *

Five is at the gates the next morning replacing worn down cables with new ones under Janine’s careful eye. She’s exhausted; her sleep had been brief and full of confusing nightmares she can’t fully recall. The clouds haven't let up since the day before, but the wind isn’t as sharp, which makes her job a bit easier since she's not slapping stray leaves out of her face every few minutes. The gates are relatively empty at the moment, with only Abel’s guards, Janine, Five, and Ian Golightly, who has stationed himself near the gates in anticipation of New Canton’s delegation arriving. He keeps glancing at Five, as if considering approaching her, but every time he takes a step too close, Janine turns a sharp look his way. He’s quick to retreat whenever that happens, but Five isn’t sure how long it’ll keep him at bay.

“Adequate job, Runner Five,” Janine says after looking over her work. Five is mildly impressed with herself. It’s rare to hear Janine give such high praise. “This should finalize repairs on the gates. I think we could all do without that horrible scraping noise every time we open and close them.”

Five nods, starting to sign at her, when a nearby guard’s radio clicks on and Sam’s voice rings out.

“Raise the gates!” He says, “New Canton’s on its way in!”

Janine hits the button for the gates and the familiar sound of the warning klaxon and a rattle of metal fills the gate yard. The guards pick off the stray zombie coming in too close behind the small group approaching Abel. Five and Janine move out of the way of the gates to make room for them as Sam saunters out of the comms shack. He looks almost as tired as Five feels.

New Canton’s runners come through the gates, carrying pistols, and all of them surrounding a tall man with slicked back hair, a well groomed beard, and sharp eyes. There’s a subtle aura of authority around him; this is a man well used to the power he holds over others. He takes in his surroundings, looking bored and unimpressed. Five hasn’t met any of the PAC members aside from Esteban, and she’s put off by this man. Of course, it could just be her dislike towards New Canton in general. Nadia’s betrayal still stung, despite Five doing her best to put it behind her.

Janine focuses on the man, her jaw tightening. Sam walks over to them, wiping his hands on his shirt and smearing a bit of marmite across the front of it.

“I recognize him,” Janine says, crossing her arms and regarding the man coldly, “Robert Oswell, though he prefers to go by Bobby. He’s the one who planned the raid on Abel before Van Ark attacked.”

Well, that certainly didn’t bode well. Five shifts uncomfortably, watching as Bobby  begins to chat with the largest runner in his entourage. The rest of the runners stretch and surrender their weapons to the nearest guards to have them stored in the armory.

“Runner Five!” One of the New Canton runners perks up and waves at Five cheerfully, jogging over to her. Archie Jensen looks much the same as she did a few weeks ago when she and Five tested whistle tones on packs of zombies together with Sara and Jamie. Frankly, she looks happier than Five has ever seen her.

Archie comes to a stop in front of her, grinning widely. “I’m glad to see you! Even though people are saying you did terrible things. I do not think it’s true, by the way. You’re violent, but not _that_ kind of violent.”

Despite the circumstances, Five’s happy to see Archie. The woman is so quirky and unashamedly _herself_ that Five couldn’t help but warm up to her, even back before the official alliance with New Canton formed. It helps that Archie has been nothing but kind and positive towards Five, if a little easily distracted by odd words. “Thanks, Archie. I’m glad to see you again, too.”

Archie perks up, giving Five a beaming smile. Her backpack squirms and growls, and a small furry head pokes out of her backpack. The floppy eared puppy barks, scrabbling his paws against the inside of her backpack in an effort to crawl out. Sam makes a small, high pitched squeeing noise beside Five, and Archie snickers at him.

“Oh my god!” He says, half laughing in glee. “Archie, who is this?”

“This is Runner K-9,” Archie says proudly, pulling the puppy out of her backpack and carefully setting him down. He’s barely up past her ankles, and he seems to be nothing more than paws and ears. A bright yellow bandana is tied around his neck, similar to the bandanas many of New Canton’s runners wear in the field. The puppy looks around, and then immediately flops down on his belly to chew on Archie’s shoelaces. “Remember? He’s the puppy that Jamie gave me the last time we did a run together. He’s so sweet! Jamie, I mean. Well, and K-9, of course. Even if he does keep eating my bras. Which is a naughty thing to do, K-9.”

The puppy growls and yips at Archie’s shoelaces before pouncing on them, completely unaware that he’s being scolded.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about Jamie giving you that puppy. Seems like forever ago,” Sam says, kneeling down to hold his hand out towards K-9. The puppy, distracted from Archie’s laces, clumsily gallops over to Sam and immediately pounces his hand, gnawing on his thumb. Sam winces, hissing. “Ow. Puppy teeth. Easy, mate.”

K-9, having been given a brand new set of chew toys in the shape of Sam’s fingers, happily gnaws and paws at the man. Sam scritches behind the puppy’s ears, seemingly happy with letting K-9 attempt to gnaw his hand off in exchange for the chance to pet him. Five can’t help but smile at the sight, momentarily distracted from her nervousness and dread.

“Archie!” A New Canton runner waves at her. “C’mon, we need to take Bobby over to meet with Major De Santa!”

“Oh! Duty calls!” Archie says, giving Five another friendly wave before bending down to pick up K-9. She carefully stashes the puppy in her backpack and jogs over to the rest of the New Canton runners. Sam manages to keep from sighing in disappointment, but only barely.

Janine watches the New Canton delegation make the trip up to the farmhouse, her lips pressed into a tight line. Her gaze falls on Five and turns contemplative. Five straightens up a bit, suddenly a bit nervous. Janine’s rather infamous for sharp looks, though Five suspects the woman doesn’t mean to come across as intimidating as she does. “Runner Five. If you have a moment, we should speak with the Major about your history at Mullins--”

“Oh!” Ian says, taking a sudden interest. He’s still got his pen and notebook in hand. “There’s a _history_ between Runner Five and Mullins Base, is there?”

Five sighs, shooting Ian an irritable look. Her warm feelings towards the man were rapidly starting to cool. Janine is even less tolerant. “Mr. Golightly, please remove yourself from this conversation. Immediately.”

Ian goes stiff, narrowing his eyes at Janine. “Now, this is uncalled for! A free press is _necessary_ for--”

“We are _not_ your meal ticket, Mr. Golightly,” Janine says sharply, “I will not ask you again.”

“This isn’t the last you’ll hear of this,” Ian huffs, turning and following after the New Canton delegation as they make their way up to the farmhouse.

Janine narrows her eyes after the man, considers Five for a moment and then sighs in frustration before following after him. “If you’ll excuse me, Runner Five. I have some matters to tend to. We’ll speak again soon.”

Five nods, though Janine has already turned her back to her. She watches the delegation, fidgeting with her hands. Suddenly, half of a Curly Wurly edges into her vision and she turns to find Sam holding it out to her.

“Part of my secret stash,” He says, grinning, “C’mon, let’s go visit Maxine. I bet she’s missed lunch again, and we should get to the good food before New Canton’s runners get there. And maybe you should take a rest? No offense, Five, but you look pretty tired.”

Five thinks for a moment and then smiles. “That sounds good, Sam. Lead the way.”

* * *

The rec room is cramped tonight. Almost all of Abel’s runners have come out, mostly to work off some restless energy. Jody’s settled in one of the old recliners, still working on that hat she’d started a few days ago. Sara and Simon are bent over a chess board in the corner opposite to Cameo and Kytan. Sam is tucked away in the far corner, where the light is dimmest, plugging away at a slightly scorched Nintendo DS. Five is nowhere to be seen; she had nearly fallen asleep at the mess tent and opted to go turn in early and get some rest before her trial. The room is quiet and cozy, though Evan can feel a silent tension begin to build.

“Are they really going to make the court martial public?” Cameo asks. She’s idly paging through a book on beekeeping while Kytan braids her hair. “Seems awfully weird. A bit too showy, too.”

“That _New Times_ reporter suggested it,” Evan says unhappily, shaking his head. “He said it was in the public interest, that everyone deserves to witness our legal system in action.”

“He’s looking to stir the pot, that’s all,” Sara scoffs from the games table, nudging a chess piece across the board in front of her. Simon leans over the table, watching her move with interest. “There’s never enough drama or trouble for people like him. There always needs to be more blood.”

“You really aren't a fan of the media, are you?” Sam asks, glancing up from his game to give Sara a bemused look. There’s a nervousness to him lately, ever since his interview with Morden. Evan hadn’t been privy to what they discussed, and that frustrates him. He wants to help Five, get her out of this somehow, and for that he needs information. He’s Head Runner. Certain expectations are carried with that supposedly unofficial title, and he intends to meet them.

“I’m familiar with the type, that's all,” Sara replies, edging her queen over to box in Simon’s king. “Checkmate. Pay up, Lauchlan.”

Simon frowns at the board in confusion, bending over it and then looking at it from either side. He sighs dramatically, handing over a pair of cushioned socks from his pocket. “First Five takes me to the cleaners, now you. I’ll be living in the woods with nothing but zombies for company at this rate. And won’t you lot be sorry then, not having poor old Simon around to rob anymore.”

“You take too many risks with your king,” Sara replies, shoving the rolled up pair of socks in her own pocket. She turns to Evan, getting back on topic. “The Major and Janine aren't seriously going to make the trial public, are they? There's no need to turn this into anymore of a circus than it already is.”

Evan gives her an unhappy look. “Unfortunately, Major De Santa was outvoted. That New Canton representative, Bobby Oswell, thought it was an excellent idea, as did Major Stone. Apparently a free press is vital to the revitalization and rebuilding of society. There’s talk of _broadcasting_ the proceedings back to Mullins, though I think Major De Santa and Janine put a quick end to that line of thought.”

“You almost make that sound like a bad thing,” Jody pipes in, “I mean, wouldn’t we be demanding that same thing if the roles were reversed? If some Mullins soldier killed one of us, we’d all be howling for blood.”

“Fair point, Jody,” Sara says, boxing up the chess game. “Except Five _didn't_ kill anyone.”

“But they think she did,” Jody presses on. “That’s going to make them dangerous if they think the trial isn’t in their favor.”

“Less dangerous than you think. Seems the man who was killed wasn’t popular with all of the soldiers,” Evan says, thinking back to his meeting with Vaughn and Smokey.

“And we outnumber them three to one, if it comes to it,” Sara says.

“It won’t,” Evan says, cutting off that thread of conversation before it truly takes hold in the other runners. “And it’s late. We’d best turn in before lights out. Cameo, Kytan, you have a run in the morning with that Mullins soldier, don’t forget.”

Cameo sighs, closing her book and standing up. “Yeah, good point. C’mon, Ky. Let’s get out of here.”

The rest of the runners clean up after themselves and leave, Sam trailing off behind them with a thoughtful look on his face, worrying his lower lip. Evan watches as the others leave, standing in the doorway. He hears Sara shift and move, and feels her presence behind him.

“Were you able to find it on your runs today?” He asks, shutting the door. He doesn’t think there’s anyone listening outside the rec room, but it pays to be cautious. Especially these days.

Sara sighs, “No. Sam had me on a tight leash and the only time I was able to get close I ended up playing babysitter for that damned reporter. You’ll have to pull this off without it, I’m afraid.”

Evan sets his jaw, and then nods. “It was a long shot to begin with. Hopefully we won’t need it.”

“I could go out and try again after lights out--”

“No,” He shakes his head, “No night runs. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We’ll bring in Sam if it comes to that.”

Sara moves to lean against the side of the doorframe opposite to him. She’s quiet for a moment, but she’s got that look on her face like she’s prepared to argue. Evan steels himself; he already knows what she’s going to say.

“You know,” Sara says, casually thumbing the pommel of the knife on her hip. It was a nervous tic of hers, one of the few she allowed herself to show. “We could bring Janine in on this, too.”

“Absolutely not,” Evan replies, “She’ll go straight to the Major. That’s not something we can afford right now. Not yet.”

Sara frowns at him, tilts her head, and squints her eyes. She’s considering taking the whole thing to Janine anyway. He half suspects that she will. He knows the two of them have been close in the past. And, truth be told, it might not be a bad idea. It’s only his own paranoia that keeps him from trusting Janine with their plans, but that paranoia has served him quite well these past few years. And he had never fully trusted her to begin with, despite everything she’s done for the people she’s taken in.

“Fine. We’ll play it your way for now,” Sara pushes herself up off the wall and reaches for the door. She catches his eye. “But if things go badly for Five at the trial, we’re doing it _my_ way. Is that clear?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Evan says. Sara nods, pushes the door open, and stalks out of the door and into the gathering dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Tyraa Rane for helping me work out the kinks in this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Slight note: Bobby is a canon character, though he's only mentioned in passing in-game.


	4. Ugly Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment. There's no detail given, but it is talked about.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, everyone!

She’s overslept. Five mentally curses herself for not setting an alarm as she winds her way through construction crews on her way towards the gates. She struggles with her hoodie, pulling it on over herself as she moves, nearly tripping and falling flat on her face in the process. The morning sun can barely press through the thick clouds hanging overhead, and the wind, sharp and bitter, smells like wet earth and dead leaves. The chill air and brief jog is enough for her to shake off the strange, heavy fog clouding her mind. Her body had reached its limit the previous night; days of anxious dread had worn her down, and she had left dinner early to return to her room, falling into bed without bothering to change her clothes. She woke up half dressed and sprawled across her bed, stumbling around in a haze to get dressed into clean clothes before her work duty with Sam starts.

 

She’s behind schedule, but she arrives at the comms shack just as Sam comes out of the door. He raises a hand in greeting, and then jerks a thumb over towards the gates, giving her a quick shorthand sign. _Watch out. Danger._

 

Five slows down her jog, taking a moment to look over her surroundings. Shorthand signs are common among runners, and usually only used in the field or for a very well timed joke at the mess hall. Sam wouldn’t use the danger sign unless something truly dangerous is nearby.

 

She spots Smokey and Morden at the gates and narrows her eyes, moving carefully to stay out of Morden’s sight as she makes her way to the far wall of the comms shack. She’s close enough that she can over their conversation.

 

“I was supposed to go with some Abel runners,” Smokey says slowly, shifting from one foot to the next. He adjusts the baton on his hip so it isn’t bumping up against his pistol holster. There’s not as much nervousness to him today as there usually is; it’s still there, but it’s like Jody’s anxiety. Present, but not overwhelming. Five’s glad to see that, personally. She always knew there were hidden depths to her old friend. “It was in the orders Sgt. Vaughn gave me yesterday--”

 

“And last time I checked, Vaughn isn’t your officer, I am,” Morden replies sharply, “You’re doing this one alone, and Abel can’t spare an operator for it. Go back to the base camp we set up in the woods, get the supplies we left there before anyone runs off with them. The scouting run with Abel will be pushed back until tomorrow, assuming we’re still here. I rather doubt the trial will last too long.”

 

Smokey frowns at him, squaring his jaw, and losing the slouch to his shoulders. He almost looks like a new man, one unfamiliar to Five. “You _know_ Five didn’t do it--”

 

“I know much more about the situation than you, _private,_ ” Morden retorts, cutting him off, “This is the second time you’ve taken an attitude with me in as many days, and I won’t stand for it. One more misstep and I’ll have you kicked back down to ‘civilian specialist’ so fast your bloody head will spin. How would you like that? At the bottom all over again, a failure, sharing your bunk in shifts and on three quarter rations.”

 

The fight immediately drains away from Smokey and he ducks his head down again, going quiet, his ears burning red. Behind him, the Abel guards give the young man sympathetic looks.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Morden smirks, “See to your run.”

 

Morden turns and walks away from the gates with a smug, satisfied look on his face. Behind him, Smokey stands stiffly, gripping his baton handle tightly in his right hand. His face is flushed red with fury, and Five has the uncomfortable realization that her old friend is barely restraining himself from striking Morden while his back is turned.

 

Then the warning klaxons go off and the gates start to rise. Smokey jumps as if he’s been slapped, and then moves through them, glancing around warily while the guards begin to pick off shamblers and crawlers. He looks over in Five’s direction and she gives him a soft smile and quick wave. Smokey ducks his head down and quickly turns away, looking sick and embarrassed. Five slowly drops her hand down, frowning. Maybe she should give him some space? She always needed a few minutes to herself after being chewed out by Morden.

 

“Poor guy,” Sam says quietly, coming over to lean against the wall beside her. He’s got one of his coveted candy bars in hand--some brand she doesn’t recognize--and he snaps a piece off to offer to her. “It’s hard to watch that. Bloody Morden. He’s been in a mood all morning.”

 

“Over what?” Five asks, taking the candy from him and watching as Smokey adjusts his pistol holster on his hip and the backpack on his back. The guards begin to clear a path for Smokey, the gate alarm blaring out its warning klaxon as the gates open up with a rattle. Smokey looks eager to leave, his back stiff, drumming his fingers along the pommel of his baton.

 

Sam sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “Anything? Everything? He’s just throwing his weight around, I suppose. Making sure everyone knows how big and important he is.”

 

That sounds right for Morden. Any opportunity to strut around and impress upon people just how big and important he is would be met with gusto. It made sense that he would start that nonsense up ahead of the trial. Five wonders just how much Morden _actually_ mourns his lost friend. Then she realizes that this _is_ how he mourns. Morden has never shown much emotion aside from smug arrogance and furious threats, at least when she worked with him at Mullins. Losing a rare friend would turn him into true nightmare for anyone below him in rank.

 

She sighs, holding the candy bar in her teeth to sign back at Sam, “This isn’t new for him. He always liked to brag to the top brass about how he ran a tight block back at Mullins.”

 

Sam tilts his head, nibbling on his candy bar. “How is threatening someone before a run into dangerous territory anything _like_ that? If anyone talked to the runners that way before a mission, the Major would have their heads. Assuming Evan didn’t get to them first.”

 

“Military theatre,” Five shrugs, taking a bite of her candy bar. At Sam’s furrowed brow, she wraps up the candy and stows it into her pocket, then signs, “You don’t have to actually be _good_ at what you do, you just have to _look_ like it. The easiest way to do that is by having a go at someone for not looking or acting proper, dressing them down in view of a high ranking officer.”

 

Morden is good at it, too. He has a strange talent for engineering situations where he comes out looking spotless. Five remembers it impressing most of his peers and superiors at Mullins, and how they marveled at how disciplined his unit had been.

 

Until Five made a mess of his block as a whole and had been thrown at the nearest assignment that got her away from Mullins base for a few days. And, well, then her chopper had been blown out of the sky. Lucky her.

 

Sam goes quiet, giving her a curious and worried look, as if trying to decide if he should ask her something.

 

Five shifts under his gaze, drawing her hands back to grab her half of the candy bar from her pocket. She watches the gates close behind Smokey. He turns and watches them, grim faced and pale. His eyes catch hers just before the gates lower, and the look in his eye is unlike anything she’s seen in him before. She can’t place it, not exactly. Anxiety and sadness mixed with something she can’t quite place. She realizes with a start that it’s been so long since she’s seen her old friend that she can’t read his moods as easily as she used to. That stings worse than she expects, and Five makes a note to try and properly reconnect with him when he comes back. She’s not going to let Morden chase her off from her friend.

 

The gates shut with a hollow clang, and Sam finishes off his candy bar, wiping his hands across the front of his faded orange hoodie and crumpling up the wrapper to stash inside his pocket. He’d once made the mistake of tossing one of his wrappers aside instead of taking it to a bin. Janine put him on litter duty for two weeks.

 

Five chews on her own piece, savoring the sugary, tart taste. Sam often shares his treats with his runners, especially when they seem down or overly stressed. That’s one of the reasons why  Janine has yet to take away his box of ‘contraband.’ It doesn’t surprise Five that he’s sharing some of his coveted stash of sweets today.

 

“C’mon, Five,” He says, opening the door for her, “Sara’s got a run scheduled ahead of the trial this afternoon. Let’s get her gear ready for her. She’ll want to be there.”

 

Five nods, following him inside the comms shack.

 

* * *

 

She can’t focus. Not at all. She barely gets Sara’s pack in order in time for the run. Sara enters the shack briskly, adjusting her headset and giving Five’s shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze as she moves past. Five jumps slightly, then relaxes. Her nerves are wrecked already. That’s not a good sign.

 

“What’s the run, Sam?” Sara asks, picking up her nearly empty backpack to shrug on.

 

“Nothing too far,” Sam says, tapping a sector marked in yellow, “Janine just wants a quick run through in this sector. There was a fire and--”

 

Sam’s voice fades in the background as he doles out the details of Sara’s run to her. Five looks at the clock up on the wall instead. 07:00. The trial is due to start at 13:00. The door to the comms shack opens and closes, and a few minutes later, the gate sirens ring out once more. There isn’t much to do right now except wait. Wait for Sara to come back, wait for the trial, wait to see what will happen to her.

 

The walls of the comms shack suddenly seem to shrink down around her, and she has to fight the urge to sprint outside.

 

She settles on pacing back and forth across the back of the room. Sam glances her way every now and then while poking at the pieces of a broken headset on his desk. He eventually gets up to move some boxes of broken electronics out of her way so she has more room to move about.

 

It’s one of the most considerate things anyone’s done for her this past week. She gives him a grateful smile and he returns it with a quick thumbs up. He sits back down at the desk, looking over his monitors to check on Sara’s position. He frowns, then clicks on his mic.

 

“Runner Eight, um, you’re straying from your path. You don’t need to go so far north. That’s right at the edge of our network--”

 

“Sorry, Sam!” Sara says, breathing hard into her mic. “I’m getting a bit of interference on my end, might lose you.”

 

“Wha--no! Nonono--” Sam whirls around to face the monitors, turning away from the broken headset. “That’s been fixed! Brunswick and New Canton gave us these fancy new parts to boost the signal, and you’re nowhere _near_ a dead zone yet--”

 

There’s a slight _click_ and Sara’s headset and tracker go dark on the monitors.

 

Sam glowers at the mic and huffs irritably. “Janine’s going to hear about this. She can't keep doing that. Not when we’ve got Mullins breathing down our necks about not tracking our runners properly.”

 

Five winces, pacing again. God, she wishes she had never accepted that airdrop run. Of course, that meant someone else would have gotten hurt instead, another Abel runner or one of New Canton’s crew.

 

If she could just _remember_ what happened out in the clearing! Her memory hasn’t returned at all, and now she’s overthinking everything from that morning to the point that she’s not sure if what she _does_ remember actually happened or not. It’s all just a blur.

 

The smell of blood and green grass, someone gasping in surprise and then shouting, falling, a sharp pain in the back of her head--and then nothing. Blackness. Until she woke up and called for Sam.

 

The pacing helps clear her head, but it does nothing for the holes in her memory. She stops and sighs in frustration, reaching up to rub her eyes hard and fast. She should just run. Leave. Sprint out of the gates the moment they raise up when Sara or Smokey return. She knows the area well; she could hide and not be found for months, and no one would be interested in trying to hunt her down when winter properly begins--

 

“Five?” Sam asks quietly, drawing her attention. He’s standing across from her with a concerned look on his face. His eyes search hers for a moment and then he steps in closer.

 

“Listen,” He says, reaching out to place his hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze, “Whatever happens at this stupid bloody trial, I’m here for you. Alright? If-if you need to vent or talk about it or just need _someone_ close by, just come find me afterward. Okay? I’ll be there.”

 

Five feels tears start to form at the corner of her eyes. She moves in close and hugs Sam tightly, pulling him against her. He stiffens at first, unsure, then slowly wraps his arms around her shoulders and returns the hug, pulling her against the warmth of his chest. Five allows herself a small moment of peace, breathing him in (he always smells vaguely of candy and marmite) before squeezing him and backing away. Sam’s blushing faintly, but he gives her a brighter smile.

 

“Thank you, Sam,” She signs, smiling at him.

 

“Sure, Five. Whenever you need me,” He says, running his hand through his hair. He fidgets a bit, seems to realize he’s fidgeting, then quickly shoves his hands inside his hoodie pocket. The red on his cheeks grows a bit deeper.

 

The comms station beeps, and Sara’s voice carries over with a brief burst of static.

 

“Back, Sam! Didn’t take but a moment, like I said,” She sounds very pleased with herself, far more than she usually would on a scouting run. Five tilts her head as Sam heads back to his desk. “I’ve finished the scouting run, by the way. Nothing out here but ashes and the dead. The little shops along this road are gone.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what we figured,” Sam says, still a little annoyed by Sara going offline. “Come back home, Runner Eight. Janine wants everyone back before the trial starts.”

 

“Oh, trust me. I’m not missing that for the world,” Sara says.

 

Five isn’t sure if she's relieved by Sara’s tone of voice or very concerned.

 

Five ends up pacing the inside of the comms shack until an hour before the start of her trial. Sam looks up from his (overdue) reports to check the time, then tilts his head at her.

 

“Five? Have you eaten today?” He asks, reaching up to scratch his temple with the back of his pen. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

 

Five blinks at him, then shakes her head. The only thing she’s eaten is the candy bar he gave her. He frowns, checks the clock again hums.

 

“Yeah,” He stands up and motions towards the door, walking her towards it. “You should go get some food before the trial. You don't want to go into that with an empty stomach. They’re serving food at the quad since the mess hall’s being used for the trial. I’ll meet you there as soon as Sara comes back.”

 

Five doesn’t want to do that at all. She wants to climb the wall and flee for the hills. Preferably after throwing the biggest, hairiest spider she can find in Morden’s face. And then punching him in the nose (without hurting the spider, of course).

 

Instead, she nods. She’s feeling a bit shaky from lack of food. A bit of leftover soup or breakfast oats will help steady her. She gives Sam a short wave and then leaves the comms shack.

 

The clouds have thinned out some, but the wind is still biting cold. Five closes her eyes and breathes in deep just as the sun breaks through the clouds. She can hear voices to her left, and she follows them. They're on the path leading up to the mess hall. Might as well indulge in her nosy habits while she has the chance.

 

She sees Vaughn, walking towards Morden and stopping in front of him. Her shoulders are tense, and there’s a slight twitch to her brow. She doesn’t look pleased. Five hangs back, curious. The wind carries their voices easily enough.

 

“What is it, Vaughn?” Morden asks, looking bored and agitated. His uniform is ruffled slightly, out of place for his usual look, and he fusses at the wrinkles in his jumper and trousers.

 

“Smokey hasn’t come back yet,” Vaughn says, glancing at the gates with a worried frown. “He’s hours overdue.”

 

“He’s fine,” Morden waves his hand dismissively, as though shooing away a bothersome fly. “You know how slow he is about things. He’ll wander in by dinner time. He’s never been one to miss a meal, after all.”

 

Vaughn clenches her jaw. “With all due respect, sir. This isn’t Mullins, and the area around here is dangerous. We need to send a search party for him--”

 

“Absolutely not, sergeant,” Morden replies, annoyed. “The tribunal meets in an hour, and we need everyone in the courtroom in case Abel tries anything. If Private Smokey hasn’t returned by tomorrow, I’ll arrange for a search party for him. Until then, the matter is closed. Have I made myself clear?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Vaughn says stiffly.

 

“Excellent. Consider this conversation finished until then,” Morden says. He glances at Five, and she draws up short. There’s no warmth to his eyes at all; she might as well be looking into the eyes of a zomb. The calm that followed her from the comms shack shatters in an instant and she feels herself go pale.

 

Morden notices that and smirks. He starts to walk towards her, then snaps his eyes to her left, looking over her shoulder. Five can feel someone’s presence behind and looks over her shoulder.

 

Simon is standing behind her, arms held behind his back, giving Morden a grin with absolutely no warmth to it whatsoever. He’s got something behind his back, and he’s being very careful of not showing Morden what it is.

 

Morden narrows his eyes, glancing around. Aside from Vaughn, he’s the only other Mullins soldier near the comms shack. And he’s very clearly being watched by the guards on duty. He takes this all in for a moment, straightens and adjusts his sleeves (flashing his watch at Five in the process, causing her to grind her teeth), then turns and promptly walks away.

 

“Wanker,” Simon says under his breath when Morden disappears from view. Five lets go of her breath, unaware she had been holding it until that moment. Simon gives her a slight grin and she returns it, though it feels forced.

 

“Five?” Vaughn walks over to her, frowning, “Did you see Smokey leave for his run? He was acting strange this morning before he left the tent.”

 

Five nods, signing to her. “Morden told him to go back to your old base camp for something. Smokey didn't look too happy about it.”

 

Vaughn sighs in frustration. “That _wasn’t_ the assignment he was given! And there’s nothing worth bringing back from that camp except things we’d need a truck to carry. Dammit, Morden always does this--”

 

Vaughn catches herself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Right, thank you, Five. I’ll see if I can get Major Stone to approve of a search party later.” Her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t think that’s very likely to happen, and Five quietly agrees. Stone and Morden seem to be thick as thieves.

 

“Maybe he got lost?” Five asks, “Or some zombs cut him off from the road back home. They’ve been more active lately.”

 

Probably because Van Ark was controlling them with those tones. Mullins had been called out to cull as much the local hordes as possible to stymy his actions, but that wasn’t currently being tended to.

 

Vaughn shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have gotten lost. He’s got a good sense of direction, Five. Drop him off in unfamiliar territory and he’ll come back with a map fit to be framed and put up on the wall. Never would’ve found that out if I hadn’t gotten him out of those bloody trash fires.”

 

Five frowns, glancing at the gates. Maybe after the trial finishes she can help go look for Smokey. Well, assuming all goes well, anyway. That was a pretty big assumption, but she won't allow herself to give up complete hope just yet.

 

“Elena,” Simon says, “Do you have a moment?”

 

Five starts, turning to give Simon a curious and slightly incredulous look. Since when was he so friendly with a Mullins soldier that he can call her by her first name?

 

Vaughn quirks a brow at him, but doesn’t seem offended or put off in anyway. “I suppose I do, Simon. What is it?”

 

Five turns to look at Vaughn. What is happening here. When did these two start talking?

 

“Well, I was hoping you could help me with a little project. I’d like to leave a little ‘gift’ in Morden’s bunk, but you lot are awfully suspicious of Abel runners these days,” Simon grins tapping the small box under his arm. A spider falls out of the top of it and he quickly snatches it up and shoves it back inside. “Just a friendly gift welcoming him to the township. Nothing dangerous, of course.”

 

Five puts her face in her hands and resists the urge to sigh. The cheek on this man. Vaughn tilts her head slightly and watches Simon.

 

Simon gives Vaughn a charming grin, pulling one of his treasured cookie dough protein bars out of his pocket and setting it on top of the small box. A blatant attempt at bribery. Vaughn eyes him for a moment, then swiftly takes both from him, tucking the box under her arm and pocketing the protein bar.

 

“I know just where to put it,” She says, giving him a small smirk. She clears her throat. “But this is the last time I can help you with this. And you never saw or spoke with me. Is that clear?”

 

“Clear as day!” Simon chuckles, “Pleasure doing business with you, Elena.”

 

“And you, Simon,” Vaughn says, turning around and walking up the path, back towards the tents Mullins entourage had built.

 

Five snorts, shaking her head. Simon grins at her, giving her shoulder a friendly nudge.

 

She gives him a tiny smile in return and nudges him back. He grins wider, rubbing his hands together.

 

“He’s the vain type, I can tell,” Simon says, apparently unaware of the concept of irony. “I bet you he’s heading for his tent soon. Well, he’s in a for a surprise. Ha!”

 

Simon grins at her. “I don't want to miss Morden’s reaction to that. Want to come see the show, Five?”

 

Five shakes her head. She’s seen Morden screech over spiders enough times that it’s lost its entertainment value for her. “No. I missed breakfast.”

 

“Ah, yeah, best see to that,” Simon nods, then starts to follow the path Vaughn took. He waves at Five. “See you around!”

 

Five smiles a little, then checks her watch. Forty five minutes to get some food and then head to the trial.

 

Right. She can do this.

 

* * *

 

Eating at the quad isn’t so bad in this weather, even with the occasional cold gust of wind. The sun makes it almost pleasant. Her meal is bland and tasteless, but filling. It helps set her nerves straight and clear her head and she makes short work of it while sitting on the bench close to the fire pit in the center of the quad. Other runners, Abel and New Canton, mingle together, chatting quietly. The few Mullins personnel present wisely keep their distance.

Five polishes off her meal and glances around. Her trial is going to start soon and Sam hasn’t come by yet. Which is strange. She asks Maxine in passing when she goes to wash up her dishes.

Maxine frowns, “That’s odd. I’ve never known Sam to skip a meal.” She gets a thoughtful look on her face and then perks up. “Oh! You know, I saw him with Sara earlier at the comms shack. They seemed to be having a pretty involved conversation. Maybe that's why he didn't make it?”

Well, that makes sense. Sam was frustrated with Sara shutting off her headset earlier. He probably tried to tell her to stop.

Good luck with that, Sam.

The town’s intercom system activates with slight feedback, silencing the murmuring conversation taking place in the quad.

“Runners Five and Seven, please report to the mess hall immediately,” Janine says, her voice clipped and matter of fact. “New Canton runners, you are needed at your posts along the walls and at the gates. That is all.”

The speakers go silent and the nervousness Five had felt this morning returns tenfold. Maxine squeezes her arm.

“You’ve got this, Five,” She says. “We’re here for you.”

Five gives her a slight nod, then starts for the mess hall. She tries to put on a brave face as she jogs down the road.

Archie falls into step beside her, K-9 at her heels, and grins. “Good luck, Runner Five! After this, we should go on a run together. I think that would be _lovely_ \--”

She draws up short and frowns suddenly. Five looks over and sees Morden keeping pace with them.

He smiles at her, and there’s no warmth in his expression. Archie shifts, watching him curiously. She isn’t comfortable around the man, Five can tell. That doesn’t necessarily surprise her. Archie is a good judge of character.

“It’s not too late to put a stop to this, Mouse,” Morden says casually. His voice is pitched low, but there’s a nervousness to it now. Maybe he’s not so sure of this trial after all. She starts to grind her teeth again, clenching her fist. “It’d be a shame if you hanged because you refused a generous offer--”

Ah. Now she knows why Morden tried to speak with her earlier. He's trying to rile her up, make her have some sort of outburst, like he did in Janine’s farmhouse.

She isn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She’s being watched, after all. The more calm she looks, the better she’ll come across to the tribunal.

God, did she hate him. The fear and anxiety are starting to shift to anger. This is good and bad. Good in that she isn’t frozen by anxiety and fear as much, bad because she might well lose her temper on Morden and Stone for going to such lengths for a man she didn’t kill and who didn’t deserve all this bother in the first place.

“I do not think that will be necessary,” Archie says, her usual perky tone replaced with something more serious. She watches Morden carefully from the corner of her eye as they move towards the mess hall. Runner K-9 waddles along behind her, nipping at a loose shoelace dragging along behind one of her shoes. “Runner Five is actually very nice, and Abel Township will not let you hurt her. This is all just one big misunderstanding, really! Soon this will all be behind us and we can focus on our real problems again.”

Morden blinks at Archie, then snorts. “I don't recall asking you--”

“Runner Five!” Evan flags her down, then jogs over to her. He crowds Morden out of the pack, forcing him away from Five and Archie. Morden huffs, and is soundly ignored. He eventually ducks aways from the group. “Excellent timing. Archie, good to see you. Thank you for volunteering for wall duty.”

“Oh! You're welcome, Runner Seven!” Archie grins at him, peeling off from them when they reach a split from the path. “Good luck!”

 

* * *

 

They don't have a proper courtroom, so Janine had workers clear out the mess hall, which had been in the middle of a much needed upgrade when Van Ark attacked. The hall is which is half building, with a tent roof with a smooth wooden plank floor. Heavy canvas snaps in the wind and tugs against a sturdy steel frame that occasionally groans or shifts during heavy gusts. Dots of sunlight play across the ground from holes in the fabric. The walls are half built up around it, unfinished, but sturdy.

A heavy, uneven wooden table sits at the front of the tent with three fold out chairs sitting behind it. The surface of it is faded and covered in food stains, but it's the nicest table in the room and the only one someone can sit at without subjecting themselves to splinters or peeling paint.

Benches line the room, mostly full of Abel’s runners while Mullins soldiers sit or stand to one side, keeping themselves separate to the crowd. Morden is front and center of the Mullins soldiers, quietly chatting with a few. Vaughn sits behind him, brow furrowed, lost in thought. Ian sits in the far corner, pen and notebook in hand, and Janine stands in the opposite corner. Most of the benches are full already, and there’s a quiet murmur of conversation that pauses when Five and Evan step inside. Evan touches her shoulder and nods towards a small card table with two fold out chairs behind it. Five follows him over to the table and sits down, fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. She just wants this over.

A heavy hand lands on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She looks up to find Sara standing behind her and most of the runners trailing her. They start picking seats on the benches closest to Five, jostling one another for room. Sam slides into a spot directly behind her and gives her an encouraging smile.

Sara squeezes her shoulder, then turns to Evan. “It’s all been handled.”

Evan nods, “Excellent. Thank you.”

Five squints up at them. “ _What’s_ been handled?”

“Never you mind that, Five,” Sara says, letting go of her shoulder to take a seat between Sam and Simon. “We probably won't even need it.”

Five narrows her eyes at Sara as Evan takes sits down. She starts to sign when the tribunal makes their entrance.

The room goes quiet as Major De Santa, Major Stone, and Bobby head towards the large table at the head of the room. Five shifts in her chair, starts to tug on her sleeve again. She forces herself to stop and take a deep breath, stilling her hands.

Bobby chuckles when he reaches his chair, sitting down and settling in. “Crude, but effective. I guess you don’t need any fancy dressings to run a courtroom. It helps set the mood, though.”

“Our resources are best used elsewhere, Mr. Oswell,” Major De Santa replies, folding her hands in front of her on the table. “Our current surroundings are more than sufficient. The goal is come to a decision quickly and efficiently, so as to put this all behind us and get back to work.”

“I’d like that,” Bobby says, scratching at his temple, “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but accommodations here are a bit lacking, and I have quite a bit of work piling up for me back at New Canton.” Major De Santa aims a look at Bobby now, and he shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his palms across the stained, uneven wood of the table. “Ah, how should we start?”

“The simplest way to start is to ask Five what happened,” Major De Santa says. “She’s the only direct witness we have, after all.”

“We’ve already gone through this song and dance with her,” Stone argues, but sighs. She sits down on the opposite side of Bobby, taking care to not look over at Major De Santa. “Right. Runner Five, please state for the court what transpired the day Sgt. Williams was killed.”

Five sets her jaw, takes a deep breath, and then starts to sign. The best she has is the truth, and she’s all too aware how flimsy that would look to the tribunal. Evan acts as her translator, his calm even tones filling the courtroom.

“Sam called me off of my rest break to go retrieve a airdrop from Mullins base. I went to the clearing where the supply crate fell, but I can’t remember what happened. Only bits and pieces.”

Bobby frowns. “You can’t remember?”

“Runner Five was found with a mild concussion in the middle of the field.” Major De Santa says. Stone scoffs quietly.

  
Five nods, “I remember shouting, something hitting me, and darkness. When I woke up, I found Sgt. Williams in the field, dead.”

“He was dismembered,” Stone states flatly, “Cut into pieces not even ten feet from her, according to the reports from my men when they examined the blood stains in the grass. The supply crate was empty and his rucksack was gone. Runner Five maintains that she somehow _slept_ through a brutal murder.”

“I was _knocked unconscious,_ ” Five signs, emphasizing the word and doing her best to keep her temper in line. How is she supposed to defend herself if Stone keeps interrupting? “You can read the report from Dr. Myers herself if you don’t believe me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Major De Santa says calmly, “I saw Runner Five myself when she returned. She’s telling the truth about her concussion. I’ve seen a fair bit in my time.”

“Then it was likely the result of Sgt. Williams defending himself from her,” Stone says. “Adrenaline is a powerful drug, and it only takes one solidly placed axe swing to incapacitate an unsuspecting victim. Even one as well trained as Williams.”

Well trained! That was rich. Five bites her tongue.

Bobby nods, taking this all in. “Is there anything else, Runner Five?”

Five hesitates, then slowly shakes her head. As far as defense statements go, it’s pretty lackluster.

“Then let’s get on with it,” Stone adjusts in her chair, “Murder is proven by three things: means, motive, and opportunity. I rather think all three can be ferreted out quickly enough to satisfy Major De Santa. Once Mullins has proven their case, we can vote on the punishment and move on to much more important things. Unless, of course, Runner Five is willing to spare us all the trouble and confess now.”

Five clenches her jaw and firmly shakes her head. She has a feeling, somewhere deep inside, that this will not end well for her, but she’s made her choice. The easy way out of this would be to confess, to work out a deal, if only to put an end to it. Five has never been good at taking the easy way out of things, and she’d sooner suck face with the nearest zomb than give Morden the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Major Stone sighs, and Major De Santa glances at her from the corner of her eye. Bobby nods as if expecting Five would answer that way.

“Very well,” Bobby says, idly stroking his beard. He already looks slightly bored. “How should we start?”

“We’ll start with opportunity. That should be easy enough to establish,” Stone says, folding her hands neatly on the table in front of her, “If Sam Yao would come to the stand, please.”

The witness stand is a wobbly bar stool with a cracked leather seat cushion. It had been stowed away inside some forgotten shed due to the fact that it smells vaguely like some seedy hinterland pub. Sam makes his way from his seat behind Five and gingerly sits down on the stool, his movements catching the eye of everyone inside the tent. He bows his head a little, as if feeling their weight, then looks at Five. He blinks at her, and then his shoulders relax and sits a bit straighter, setting his jaw.

“Who are you and what do you do here at Abel, son?” Bobby asks, giving the younger man his best winning smile.

“Ah, Sam. Sam Yao. I’m the chief radio operator here at Abel,” Sam says, gaining a bit of confidence now that the awkward silence is broken. He’s still clearly uncomfortable, and his hands fidget with the frayed edge of his hoodie between words. Five hates to see him so nervous.

“You were the one in charge of radio operations the day of the murder, correct?” Stone asks, cutting off Bobby before he can continue.

“Um, yeah. I was on duty that day,” Sam nods to her.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened, Mr. Yao?” De Santa asks, “Start from the beginning, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, alright. It was a standard scouting run until Sentinel--uh, the Mullins pilot--called and said he had an engine failure and needed to drop his supply crate off away from the usual spot,” Sam says, “It wasn’t too far from the scheduled area, but it landed in an area near Dedlock territory, where the cameras are down. Well, most of them, anyway. Sentinel said he contacted the local Mullins squad to send someone to guard it until we could get a runner out there.”

“And you sent a runner to go retrieve it?” Major De Santa again. Five starts to bounce her leg under the table, then forces herself to stop. God, this is torture.

  
“Yeah, Five was the only one available. She went out to go get it. I figured it the sooner we got the airdrop, the sooner Mullins could have their people back.”

“And you lost track of Runner Five?” Stone asks.

“Er, kind of?” Sam shrugs, “Like I said, the cams in that sector are mostly down, but you can still get a radio signal out there. Barely. I lost her on cams long before her radio went quiet.”

“How long did it take for Runner Five to contact you again?” Stone asks.

“Um, about thirty minutes, give or take?” Sam thinks, scratching his chin. “More, probably. The clearing takes about fifteen minutes to reach in clear weather with no zombs around, but that area is near a red zone.”

“That gap is significant,” Bobby says, tugging at his beard in thought, “A lot can happen in thirty minutes.”

“Plenty of time to kill and dismember someone,” Stone says, “We don’t have to wonder if Five is physically capable of it. Anyone on the runner’s roster can do it, if she’s any good at her job.”

Five clenches her jaw. Behind her, Sara scoffs. Sam frowns, and starts to say something, but is cut off by Bobby.

“Which gives Runner Five the opportunity for the crime, confirmed by her own operator and the transmission times Mullins provided to us earlier,” Bobby nods. Sam sputters, making a small noise of protest. De Santa narrows her eyes and gives a soft shake of her head, silencing him. He clenches his jaw, starts to say something--

“You told Lt. Morden that you gave Runner Five her standard equipment before the run,” Stone says, turning back to Sam, “What did that include?”

“Um, well, her headset,obviously, her backpack, canteen, and her axe.” Sam says, counting each off on his fingers the same way he did in the comms shack while preparing running kits earlier. “The standard equipment, really.”

“And what did Runner Five bring back with her the day Sgt. Williams was murdered?” Stone asks.

Sam frowns. “Just her headset.”

That gets Bobby’s attention. “No axe? No backpack?”

“Well, no,” Sam turns to Bobby. “Runners lose things when they’ve been hurt; it happens. It’s more important to get a runner home than to go chasing off after lost equipment. A good runner is priceless, and Five is our best.”

“I have to agree with you on that one,” Bobby says, “New Canton has a similar rule in place.”

“Mr. Yao,” Stone cuts in, leaning forward on her elbows. “Are the runners given their own equipment?”

“Sure,” Sam says, nodding, “Everyone gets their own equipment and takes care of it themselves. We’re not like New Canton where they have a staff to do that. Each runner’s responsible for their own tools. Janine and Evan still do inspections, of course.”

“And is this equipment labeled in anyway?” Stone asks.

“Um, yeah,” Sam scratches the back of his head. “Most runners put their numbers on their stuff. Just so there’s no confusion. And, well, if we lose a runner, their gear can go to the next runner who takes their number.”

“Excellent. Lt. Morden, if you’ll please bring in the axe.” Stone says.

This sets off some quiet murmuring among the crowd, all eyes turning towards Morden as he stands up, pulls on some gloves, and lifts up an axe from the side of the room. He takes it over to the table, setting it down in front of the tribunal.

Behind her, Simon makes a small disgusted noise. “Bloody hell, we eat off that table.”

The axehead and half of the shaft are a dull, reddish brown from the blood that’s dried across it. Bobby looks over the axe closely, motioning for Morden to move the it for him so he can see the whole of it. Major De Santa only clenches her jaw. Everyone in Abel has seen Five carry that thing around on her hip; there’s no need to confirm what she already knows. The roughly carved number 5 on the haft only seals the deal.

“This was found at the scene,” Morden says, “Private Smokey pulled it out of Sgt. Williams’ back himself,” He twists the axe, pointing at the number carved in the handle. “As you can see, the number five is clearly carved into the haft of the axe, marked with black paint.”

“As Mr. Yao stated, the runners of Abel Township mark their equipment with their numbers so there’s no confusion,” Stone says, “And his own testimony shows that Runner Five left Abel with her axe the day of the murder.”

“Well, that covers means,” Bobby shakes his head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “I have to say, it isn’t looking good for you, Runner Five.”

Five shrinks down at the table, shoulders slumping. Maybe she should have confessed after all?

Bobby watches as Morden takes the axe back to where he had it stowed away. “I do still have one question. What could Runner Five gain from killing the man? She’s obviously not some mindless psychopath. You said there was a difficult past between them, but even then, most people won't kill people they dislike. Especially not with an axe.”

“She was known to be violent at Mullins,” Stone says, “We have records of her attacking Sgt. Williams and breaking his hand, nose, and dislocating his left shoulder. Lt. Morden lost him for several months to light duty because of it.”

Major De Santa frowns, “You’ve mentioned this before, but refused to share the details. I’ve never known Runner Five to be violent without cause, yet you insist that this incident should be brought forward as proof of motive. Why?”

“I rather think that was self explanatory,” Major Stone says archly. “It shows a history of violence between the victim and his murderer, instigated by Runner Five. As well as her emotional instability.”

Five does her best to keep from scowling. There’s another round of quiet murmurs from the crowd gathered around inside the courtroom, but they quiet down when Janine shoots the runners a sharp look from the corner of the room.

Bobby frowns. “I’d like to know more than the bare facts, Major Stone. This was shortly after Z-Day, right? It seems like everyone got into at least one fight or two during that. I know New Canton had its fair share of short tempers. What makes this incident so bad?”

“This was a beating, not some simple exchange of blows. Lt. Morden’s own reports show that plainly,” Stone insists, clearly hoping that statement will be enough to concede the point. Bobby gives her one of his winning grins, and she sighs. Stone can brush off De Santa, but she can’t brush off De Santa _and_ Bobby. “Very well. If you insist. Lt. Morden, to the stand, please.”

Five can feel her heartbeat quicken, and she shifts uncomfortably on her chair as Morden makes his way over to the stool. Sam scrambles off of it and walks back towards the bench behind Five, looking upset and vaguely ill.

Unlike Sam, Morden radiates a calm and professional presence, despite the rumpled uniform. He sits down on the stool, turning  to face the tribunal.

Major Stone smiles at him, “Lieutenant, if you would share with the tribunal the details of incident that took place shortly before Runner Five was transferred to Abel Township?”

Transferred. Ha. Well, Five supposes ‘transfer’ and ‘violently blown out of the sky and kind of forgotten’ mean the same thing if you twist, squint, and forget that words have meaning in the English language.

God, this is the _last_ thing she wants anyone at Abel to know about.

“Of course, Major,” Morden’s tone is professional and polite, “Three months before Mou--ah, _Runner Five_ was transferred, she was involved in an unfortunate incident at the pub on base. The result put one of my best men in hospital and he was only recently able to return to full duty. If I had known his first field assignment since then would result in his death, I would have insisted he stay behind at Mullins.”

Simon snorts, murmuring quietly. “And the Best Actor Award goes too…”

“Shut up,” Sara hisses, voice tight with anger. Five shifts in her chair again. Evan is silent beside her, watching the tribunal and Lt. Morden with sharp, narrowed eyes.

Major De Santa cuts in, annoyance clear in her tone. “If you would kindly share with us the details of this so called ‘incident,’ it would be greatly appreciated.”

Morden nods his head respectfully towards De Santa, “Of course, Major De Santa. As you know, Runner Five was originally a civilian aid at Mullins. One of the people taken in when the disaster first occurred. She was assigned to my block and I had a hell of a time figuring out what to do with her.”

“Block?” Bobby tilts his head, and snorts, “It sounds like you’re in charge of the prison, not a military station.”

Morden gives the man a smile, chuckling quietly, “Mullins base was broken into quadrants and blocks when we started taking in civilians from the catastrophe. I’m in charge of C Block, where civilians who are healthy but have no particular trade or skill set are sent. Everyone must earn their place these days, so the people in my block work as civilian aids for the military. Couriers, janitorial work, digging out latrines or building walls, any low skill positions that need to be filled in order for military personnel to handle zombie hordes.”

“Ah,” Bobby nods, “I see. And Runner Five was one of your aids.”

“I admit I struggled with her,” Morden says with a sigh, “She was rather lackluster with performing her duties. Slow, belligerent at times, which is understandable to a certain extent. I usually kept her close by to make sure she wasn’t slacking off. I had hoped giving her a short shift helping Sgt. Williams at the pub would help her come around. It’s a highly sought after duty at Mullins, and not one she would normally be allowed given the complaints and marks against her.”

Five winces, remembering that night. Morden was right in that it was highly sought after for the men in the block. Most of the women in C Block traded that duty away the moment they saw their name on the schedule. If she had been smart, she would have done the same thing.

“What happened?” Bobby asks.

“I wasn’t witness to it personally, but I was called down to the pub by Private Thompson. He said Five had snapped, attacked Williams with no warning. I didn’t believe it at first, of course. I thought it was some silly prank until I got there,” He shakes his head. “Couldn’t believe my eyes. Williams was down on the floor, surrounded by broken bottles from the fight and bleeding from the nose with arm twisted up at a bad angle.”

“A fully trained soldier was taken down by a civilian aid?” Bobby tilts his head.

“Size doesn’t much matter when you’ve got the element of surprise on your side,” Morden retorts. “There were conflicting reports, but the consensus was that there was a misunderstanding and Runner Five attacked Williams before he could react. I sent him straight to the medics and put her on punishment duty straight away. Striking a superior is a serious offense, and not something I take lightly.”

“That’s one hell of a misunderstanding,” Bobby says, he turns to Five, “Is there anything you can add to this, Runner Five?”

Five’s clenching her teeth so hard she can hear them creak from the pressure. It’s taking all of her effort to keep from flinging her chair directly at Morden’s face. Some of the anger must show through, because Major De Santa frowns at her with concern and Bobby blinks in surprise.

She takes in a deep breath, then starts to sign, “Williams _did_ attack me. I made sure he wouldn’t do it again.”

Evan hesitates for a moment when she finishes, giving her a side eyed look. He hasn’t translated for her yet. Major De Santa clears her throat.

“Runner Seven.”

Evan repeats Five’s words to court. She almost winces at how it sounds. That isn’t going to win her any points. The runners shuffle behind her, and she can feel their eyes on her, seeing her in a new light.

She had _never_ wanted them to know about her time at Mullins, for several reasons.

“Thank you for your statement, Lt. Morden,” Stone says politely, causing Bobby to raise his eyebrows. The crowd is still murmuring behind her as Morden gets up and moves towards the other Mullins soldiers.

Bobby hums, sitting back in his chair. “I’m not sure that proves motive, Major Stone. It proves our victim and Runner Five had a history, but…”

“It proves she reacts violently to situations that don’t call for such extreme responses,” Stone replies, “That was one of the reasons Lt. Morden kept such careful notes on her. And I think we can all be grateful that he did, really--”

“With all due respect,” A voice calls out from the crowd. A woman stands up from the Mullins side of the courtroom. Sgt. Vaughn. “That isn’t true. Lt. Morden isn’t giving you the full story. Runner Five acted in self defense against Williams at the pub.”

Major Stone is glares daggers at Sgt. Vaughn, and the younger woman does a remarkable job of ignoring it, keeping her hands folded neatly behind her back. There’s a slight shake to them, but Vaughn clamps down harder to keep it from showing.

Five hopes Vaughn knows just what kind of target she’s painting on herself for this. She’s essentially committing career suicide by testifying on Five’s behalf. Mullins won’t treat her well for embarrassing one of their top brass.

The courtroom is murmuring and whispering behind Five, and the entourage from Mullins is the loudest, muttering in outrage. Morden scowls at Vaughn.

“Sit _down_ \--” He growls, low and furious. She doesn’t even look at him, and this drives him into further rage, breaking through his calm mask. He starts to stand, reaching out to grab her.

Major De Santa turns an icy stare at Morden, who chokes on his next words and goes silent, leaning back in his chair. His eyes turn sharp and dangerous, suddenly aware of how badly this could go for him. De Santa holds the stare until he shifts uncomfortably and glances away. Satisfied that he won't try anything, De Santa turns to Vaughn. “Go ahead, sergeant. I think it’s important that we hear what you have to say.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vaughn takes in a deep breath. “Most of the complaints from Lt. Morden are petty at best, and outright lies at worst. Everyone in C-Block knows he didn’t like Five, that he treated her like a maid. He’d give her double duty in the kitchens or latrines until 2300 or so, and then he’d go wake her up at 0400 to start all over again. All of those marks against her are ones he put there to make sure she didn’t rise up the ranks and get promoted out of his unit. He didn't want to lose his personal maid. He bragged about how she couldn’t make any complaints against him because no one could understand sign language.”

Five blinks. Suddenly, several things from her past at Mullins make sense. She had been given a rather unfair reputation among the officers and soldiers at Mullins, with quite a few assuming the worst of her right from the start. She had chalked it up to simple prejudice or apathy towards her inability to talk with them. It had never occurred to her that Morden would go out of his way to slander her towards the rest of the leadership so they wouldn’t take interest in her. A rush of anger fills her, followed by simple confusion. Why would he go to such effort? She hadn’t done anything to deserve that treatment.

“That sounds more like reality,” Simon mutters quietly.

Bobby tilts his head, “What about that incident with Sgt. Williams? At the soldier's club?”

Vaughn gives a bitter laugh. “Williams deserved that. Everyone knows he got handsy when he was drunk, especially with the civvie recruits. And he was _always_ drunk during his shifts at the pub. What Five says is true: he grabbed at her and ignored her trying to get him to stop, so she _made_ him stop. I saw it, and so did a few others. I signed a statement on it, as well. It wasn't an attack. It was self defense. Frankly, he deserved every bit of it and then some.”

Five could have gone her whole life without _that_ particular part of her history being broadcast to the rest of Abel. She feels her face flush red, and grips the edge of the table tightly, barely resisting the urge to slide down further into her chair or hide under the table completely. Five can’t bring herself to look at any of them just yet.

Evan shifts slightly beside her, his hands balled into fists on the table’s surface. He looks _furious._

She’s vaguely aware of heated muttering from the Abel runners behind her. Sara actually _growls_ , low and dangerous, and Five can hear Simon cursing darkly behind her. A warm hand falls on her shoulder and squeezes, and she can see the flash of an orange hoodie sleeve from the corner of her eye. Sam keeps his hand there, a silent show of support, and one that grounds her in the moment. When her shoulders start to relax, he gives her a gentle squeeze and withdraws his hand.

Major De Santa does not look pleased in the least. “Is this the way your commander runs things at Mullins?”

Stone doesn't look impressed. She shoots Major De Santa a warning glare before turning on Vaughn. “Why was this never brought to our attention? Not one of Williams’ alleged victims ever brought this to us.”

Vaughn laughs. “We’d have to follow the chain of command. The same one that runs right into Sgt. Williams’ friend, Lt. Morden.”

“Certainly there are ways to escalate your complaints above your immediate superiors,” De Santa says, frowning. “That’s standard protocol.”

Vaughn hesitates, unsure of how to proceed. She looks at Five, sets her jaw, then turns back to Major De Santa. “The brass at Mullins talks a big game about fraternization and abuse, but they aren’t interested in actually dealing with it these days. Especially not when the victims are civilian aids they’ve pressed into service.”

“You are coming perilously close to insubordination, sergeant.” Stone growls.

“If all it takes to be considered insubordinate is to tell the truth, then so be it,” Vaughn shoots back, her own temper coming loose. “This is one big political show for the rest of the officers at Mullins to make you look good for your next promotion and nothing more. If you cared to find Williams’ murderer, you’d have sent us all to go search the woods for those Dedlock bandits instead of dragging us here and away from our duties.”

Stone is red with fury now, but says nothing. Five doesn’t think there’s much she _can_ say without coming undone. Vaughn is right. Mullins had barely investigated Williams’ death before coming to Abel with accusations, roaring for blood. Another hallmark for the leadership at Mullins below the command level; make a decision, make it fast, get results. Not necessarily bad protocol for a zombie apocalypse, but certainly not the preferred method to use during a murder investigation.

Vaughn’s words have stirred the crowd, and low murmur of conversation starts to grow louder, with the Mullins soldiers becoming louder with their displeasure. A few call out at Vaughn, with one soldier hissing ‘ _Traitor!’_ at her. She ignores them, standing at attention before the tribunal. Major De Santa cuts in before chaos takes over.

“Is there anything else you'd like to add to your testimony, Sgt. Vaughn?” Major De Santa asks, “I’d caution you to keep your tone professional and befitting a member of our service.”

Vaughn hesitates, as if trying to come to a decision. She looks over the court, her eyes settling on the front gates, just barely visible outside of the mess tent. Finally, she shakes her head.

“Very well. Thank you for your cooperation, sergeant.” Major De Santa says, “You are dismissed.”

Vaughn turns from the small table serving as a witness stand. She gives Five a look of genuine regret before moving into the crowd. Abel’s runners and residents give her curious, thoughtful looks. The looks she gets from her fellow soldiers are considerably darker and hostile. She ignores both and leaves the mess hall altogether.

The court falls into a tense silence. Somewhere in the background, Five can hear Ian furiously writing down everything that’s happened. The sound of it makes her teeth itch. Sam squeezes Five’s shoulder again, gently rubbing her arm, before letting his hand fall away.

“Well! That was...something. I’m suddenly thankful New Canton hasn’t had to deal with anything so messy as this,” Bobby says, looking a tad overwhelmed while he tugs thoughtfully at his beard. “I’m not sure what to take away from that testimony, if I’m being completely honest.”

“It shows that there is a violent history between Sgt. Williams and Runner Five. One that she instigated rather take to the proper authorities.” Stone says, cutting in ahead of Major De Santa. “I think it’s rather obvious that she sought to take revenge on Sgt. Williams when the opportunity presented itself.”

“How many people in your command structure understand sign language, Major Stone?” Evan asks suddenly. He’s speaking out of turn, but none of the judges seem inclined to silence him.

Stone frowns. “How is this relevant?”

“If Five had tried to report Williams’ actions, would anyone have been able to understand her?” Evan presses on. “I assume there’s no reporting method that relies on written testimony. Paper is a luxury item these days, and one strictly controlled in military environments and large population centers, after all. I believe it’s rare even in New Canton.”

Bobby nods his head. "He’s right. Paper is pretty strictly controlled in New Canton.”

Stone clenches her jaw.

“Well, Major?” De Santa asks. Her voice is coldly professional. “Runner Seven has a valid question.”

Bobby looks between the women and shifts uncomfortably.

“I’m unaware of anyone in our command structure who understands sign language.” Stone replies flatly.

“So you have a citizen working beneath an abusive superior, who is attacked by that superior’s friend, and who knows she can expect no help from a higher authority,” Evan says, “Small wonder she defended herself the way she did! Even your own soldier agrees it was justified. And you _still_ punished her for it.”

“Discipline and protocol _must_ be maintained--” Stone begins.

Evan raises his voice, cutting her off sharply. Stone actually looks stunned. She isn’t used to being interrupted or spoken over, and Evan knows just how to emphasize his words to keep her silent. “This doesn’t show Five has violent tendencies. It shows she’s able and willing to defend herself, despite knowing she is likely to be punished for it. That doesn’t show a violent mindset, that shows _bravery_.”

The Abel residents mutter in clear agreement with Evan, and even a few of the Mullins soldiers look thoughtful. Stone scoffs a little, but doesn’t necessarily disagree; she’s been thrown off balance by this revelation, apparently. The looks she gives Morden are much colder than they were when he was on the stand only a short while ago. He’s maintained that same, flat bored expression he’s had since Major De Santa silenced him earlier.

“It also shows motive,” Bobby says quietly, tapping his fingers against the rough wood of the table. He looks over at Major De Santa, and continues, almost apologetically. “And, well. No one can account for her whereabouts. The axe has Five’s number on it, and she’s well known to be the only one in Abel to carry that type of axe. And she came back covered in Williams’ blood. That’s three strikes.”

Stone, eager to draw attention away from Williams’ past and the abysmal leadership present at her base, nods. “Five had the means, motive, and opportunity. Despite whatever sins he may have committed in the past, Williams deserves justice. As anyone deserves.”

Bobby sighs, nodding. “I have to agree. Much as I don’t like the circumstances.”

“It’s possible Five acted in self defense,” Evan argues, half standing from his seat. His voice is raised now. “What proof do we have that he didn’t attack her first? I would react strongly to a man like Williams showing up in a secluded area while armed with a rifle.”

“There’s a difference between ‘reacting strongly’ and ‘total dismemberment,’ Mr. Deaubl,” Stone says sharply. Several soldiers from Mullins shout their agreement, and a few stand. Five can feel Abel’s runners tense behind her, and she hears Sam’s tense, worried whisper of _sit down, they’ll just take it out on Five_ to someone near him. “Once you’ve crushed a man’s skull and removed his head and limbs, it can no longer be considered self defense!”

“That is _enough!_ ” Major De Santa glares around the room, standing up. The court falls silent, even the Mullins soldiers. The tone in Major De Santa’s voice brooks no argument as she continues. “I believe we should call a recess until tomorrow. It’s clear that tempers are far too high to come to any productive conclusions today.”

Stone starts to stand, beginning to protest. De Santa turns a cold glare her way, and the younger woman fumbles, sitting back down.

“I think I agree with you, Major,” Bobby says.

“I’m pleased to hear it, Mr. Oswell,” She turns to Five, “Runner Five, return to your room. You are to stay there until told otherwise. Given the state of some of our guests, I would like you to leave first.”

Five stands up, red up to her ears and jaw locked tight. She sprints out of the courtroom and into the hazy late afternoon sun, heading straight for the dorms. She can hear Major De Santa continue to speak as the tent flaps close behind her.

She makes it to her room just before the tears start, slamming the door shut behind her and dropping down to sit against the door. She buries her face against her thighs and hugs her knees against her, muffling her gasping sobs.

It was too much. She should have just confessed.

 

* * *

 

Five isn’t sure how long she stays like that, but when she looks up, the sky has gone dark with a full moon glowing over the horizon. She stands up on shaky legs, rubbing her eyes, and starts to stretch. She’s too upset to sleep and too emotionally drained to do more than pace around her room.

Five almost doesn’t hear the tapping on her window--her _second floor_ window--until there's a solid _clink_ against the glass pane from a small rock striking it. Another follows, just above the first. Then another. Curious, she pulls open the window and peers outside in the chill night air.

A woman is standing just beyond the reach of the flickering security light, wearing an Abel armband on her right arm. It takes Five a few seconds, but eventually she recognizes Sara. Why on earth is she hiding in the dark past curfew? What is she _doing_ out here?

“Good. You’re awake. Get your shoes on and climb down. Best that no one sees you leave.” Sara says, her voice soft. She signs along with it from the ground; it's damn hard to see her hands in the twilight, but Five can get the gist of it. “Quickly!”

Baffled, Five does as told, pulling the window open and crawling out of it to grab the lattice on the side of the building. She pulls the window shut behind her--no reason to let birds and pests inside while she’s gone--and carefully picks her way down to the ground, dropping down next to Sara. She shouldn’t be doing this, not when the Major gave her specific orders to stay put, but Five would rather enjoy her last night of freedom while she still has it. It’s not like she can be sent to prison _twice_ , after all.

Sara puts a finger to her lips and then jerks her head over to towards the eastern side of the building. That side has a faulty motion sensor that doesn’t trigger the security light; no one’s bothered to take the time to fix it yet. Sara heads for the darkness in a light jog, moving swiftly and silently.

Five jogs forward, keeping pace with her. She tilts her head at her friend, curiosity plain on her face.

“Things aren't looking good for you, Five,” Sara says, winding between the rubble of a former farm and greenhouse. They were heading southeast, towards the gates, but they were using paths not easily seen from the main road through town. Five isn’t sure the night watch even passes through here more than twice a night. “The Major is trying her damndest to get Mullins to see sense, but it's an uphill battle. She’s got Major Stone and Bobby locked up in the farmhouse to plead your case, in fact.” She sighs. “There’s only so much she can do, unfortunately. That ‘trial’ was a damned nightmare.”

Five can only agree to that. She’s going to have nightmares about that whole song and dance for months.

“What happens if she can't convince them?” Five asks, careful to mirror Sara’s steps through the rubble. Given her current run of luck, she’s likely to fall face first on some tetanus riddled nail or screw in the rubble. Wouldn’t that just be icing on the cake.

“Mullins wants your head,” Sara scoffs. “That isn't likely--the Major and Janine won't stand for that--but you could be sent to some prison farm near Mullins.”

Five briefly considers taking the hanging instead. Punishment duty at Mullins had been its own special brand of hell. She can only imagine the kind of treatment she'd get as a prisoner instead of a resident.

“Unfortunately, they only need two out of three people to pass the verdict. Bobby’s a decent enough man, but his duty is to New Canton first and foremost, and they’re desperate for supplies. The sooner a decision is made, the happier he’ll be. We know full well how Mullins will vote. Stone’s made her stance clear since the start. And Major De Santa can’t win them over without solid evidence.” Sara says quietly, leading them over to the gates, sticking to the shadows.

She stops next to a hollowed out tree stump and reaches down beside it, searching the rubble for something. “We’re going to go out and get it.”

“What? We are?” Five asks, her heart in her throat. Sara’s putting herself at risk here. She could be put on trial, sentenced to hard labor alongside Five, and then Abel would lose _two_ runners instead of just one. It’s stupid for her to risk her life like this; Abel had just gotten her back. They need her.

“We are,” She replies, pulling her backpack from among the rubble. She must have hidden it there earlier in the day. She pulls another backpack and tosses it over. Five catches it, stumbling from the weight briefly before setting it down to look inside.

It's absolutely packed with supplies. Clothes tightly rolled across the bottom, a full water bottle and a small bag of water sanitation tablets--those are worth their weight in gold these days; Janine kept them under lock and key. How had Sara gotten hold of them? Five shifts some things aside, peering down to see what else is inside. A full box of Simon’s favorite protein bars, a first aid kit and a smaller trauma kit, both of them carefully marked by Maxine’s slightly sloppy hand, the hat Jody had been working on the past few days, a small map of safe houses from Evan, all of them leading up to Bert Airfield. There’s a note next to the airstrip: “Meet here. Burn this map when finished.”

Five stares at Sara in frank confusion.

“The runners put this together for you,” Sara grunts, shrugging on her own worn backpack. Her eyes meet Five’s, focused and determined. “Just in case things went poorly for you at the trial. And it certainly did at that!”

She stops and looks at Five, her expression serious. “This is a hail mary play, Five. If we can't find something to clear your name by tomorrow morning, we'll at least give you a good head start before Mullins unleashes the hounds. Then we just have to lead them on a merry chase until the Major and Janine come up with something.”

She hands Five a headset. “Here, put this on and stay put while I get the gates sorted.”

Five takes the headset with numb fingers, utterly blindsided. She hadn’t expected anyone to come to her defense like this, not when her ‘guilt’ was so blatantly obvious. She zips the backpack up and slings it over her shoulder, then puts on the headset and turns it on. Sara ducks into the shadows, moving silently and quickly away from Five.

“Five?” Sam asks quietly, breathing into the mic. She can hear his chair squeak as he shifts, and she can all but see him glance nervously over his shoulder towards the comms shack door.

His voice is more soothing to her rattled nerves than Sara’s cool confidence. The day has been such a rollercoaster from start to finish, such a nightmare, that she isn’t sure this is real. She taps twice against her mic, her standard greeting before a run.

“Oh, good! You're ahead of schedule. That’s--that's good, yeah,” He sounds nervous, but quickly gets control of himself. “Listen, Sara has this idea about how to clear your name, and well, it just might work. You have to reach the clearing where Sgt. Williams was killed, and access one of the cams in that area. I know you don’t like night runs, and I _really_ don’t like them, but we don’t have much choice, I’m afraid.”

“I thought all the cameras there are broken?” Five asks, keeping to the shadows. Where had Sara gone?

“They are! We can’t access them from our network at all, but I know a few are still powered on along the roads in that area. And they might have local storage, like a little memory card or something, inside them,” Sam says excitedly, the information spilling out of him almost too fast for her to understand. “Which means they _might_ have seen what happened at the clearing. If they’ve got the right angle, that is.”

A camera. It was a long shot. A _very_ long shot, with quite a bit of risk attached and no guarantee that it’ll pan out. But what choice did she really have? Aside from staying, that is.

The smart thing would be to wait until tomorrow, to plead her case and accept her fate so that everyone can move on. To rebuff her friends and keep them from dragging themselves down into this nightmare with her.

“How are we going to get past the gates?” Five asks. Mullins has been sure to keep some of their people on sentry duty during night time hours since they arrived, and she can see a few soldiers lounging around on top of the wall. Sgt. Vaughn stands apart from them, alert and awake, seemingly the only one to really take her duty seriously. Or she could have been ostracized from the group already and decided to keep her distance from her comrades.

“Well, it just so happens that Janine’s gotten an emergency request from one of New Canton’s satellite settlements--they need medical supplies badly, and the sooner the better.” Sam sounds slightly smug. “Evan and Simon are going now. You’ll have to sneak out through the dark area to the left when I raise the gates, alright? Follow along the outside until you reach Abel’s side of the wall. Jody and Cameo are on guard duty there. They won’t see you. You’ll have to be quick, though.”

“Left, stick to the shadows,” Five confirms, standing a bit taller. There’s more hope to her now. It’s such a small hope, and if she’s caught sneaking outside of Abel, she’ll almost certainly be considered guilty.

But it’s better than twiddling her thumbs inside her room.

Sara emerges from the shadows nearby, a slight smirk forming on her lips, “Come on, Five. Run with me.”

It’s music to Five’s ears. She follows Sara over to the gates, staying in the shadows. Evan and Simon stretch and talk to one another in quiet tones. Sara taps against the wall three times and Evan straightens, motioning for Simon to fall in behind him as he heads for the gates.

The gates rise with a clatter, the guard sweeping their flashlights back and forth to find hidden crawlers and silent zombies in the dark before starting their covering fire. After they sweep for the third time, Sara moves for the dark spot to the left of the gates and Five is hot on her heels. Five follows Sara into the night.

She still has a chance. She can still make this right.


	5. Revelations

“Okay, guys,” Sam says, leaning away from his mic briefly, “You’re well out of view of the township now. You can turn on your torches if you like.”

 

Five turns hers on immediately, sighing in relief when it clicks on and illuminates the cracked road she and Sara are jogging down. It’s a small light, cheap plastic clipped to the left shoulder strap of her backpack, and the beam shifts back and forth with her running, but it helps her avoid pitfalls and any potential crawlers on the path. Sara flips hers on as well, adding to the dim light. Wheezing groans come from the dark around them, drawn by the noise of their footsteps and the light from their torches. The sound of it sets Five’s teeth on edge, reminding her of her last nearly disastrous night run. She taps her mic, just a quick double tap, the signal for a mic check.

 

“I’ve got you, Five,” Sam replies immediately, “Janine made the headsets extra sturdy after you went missing that night, so there’s not much of a chance of it failing on you like it did before.”

 

Five smiles, tapping out a quick acknowledgement.

 

“How’s the path to the clearing look, Sam?” Sara asks, leading the way down the dark path. Despite the late hour and the fact that this is her second run today, she doesn’t seem tired at all.

 

“Clear, as far as I can tell? None of my cams really have night vision filters, you know. And the scanners are always lit up at night. But the biggest blob is to the east, and you’re heading west. I’m afraid I won’t be much help on this one, guys. You’re going to hit the edge of our range quick at your current pace.” He gives a frustrated sigh. “I just wish you could have done this during the day, when it’s safer.”

 

“We can handle it, Sam. What I want to know is why no one thought of this before,” Sara says quietly, dodging around a crawler and neatly swinging her axe down before it turns towards Five. The zombie groans softly, decayed hand scrabbling at Sara’s passing foot before its face caves in around the axe head with a sickening squelch. “Someone should have thought of it. Would’ve saved us all a lot of pain.”

 

“Well, I did,” Sam huffs, his voice intermingling with static until the channel clears again, “I mentioned it when Morden started questioning me the other day. I told him there was probably one or two cameras pointed at the clearing, and that he should tell Major Stone about it so we could send someone out that way. I figured he’d want one of his people to go along with one of our runners. You know, chain of evidence or something.”

 

“Did you.” Sara’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “And what did he have to say to that?”

 

“He didn’t believe me and said I was just trying to cover for Five to delay the trial,” Sam sighs again, “I never got the chance to tell Major De Santa about it. Between this and trying to track down Van Ark’s next move, and rebuilding the town...” He goes silent, and then quietly, “I should have made them listen somehow. Anything to stop that bloody trial.”

 

A heavy silence falls after that, and Five wishes she was back at Abel to talk to him privately.

 

“Just let us know if anyone notices Five’s gone missing,” Sara pants, moving over to one side of the path so Five can run beside her. Shuffling, hissing forms shoot decaying arms and hands into the beams of their lights, and they start to knock them aside or brush them off together, working seamlessly as a team to protect the other’s blind spots. It’s a method Runner Seven teaches new runners during their red zone training, and all of them can do it in their sleep. Five has _missed_ this. “We need some time for this one. We’ll be lucky if we get back before dawn, with the way the zombs have been behaving lately.”

 

“Yeah, we can all thank Van Ark for that.” Something beeps in the comms shack and Sam mutters unhappily. “Listen, I’ve got to switch over Simon and Evan. They really _do_ have to make that run. I’ll be back in a moment. Stay safe, guys.”

 

* * *

 

“Not far now, Five. That’s the Mullins’ campground up to our left, the halfway point to the clearing,” Sara says, slowing her pace. They’ve entered the green sector near where the airdrop landed earlier in the week. Five can still hear zombies, but they’re much further away, and she lets herself relax just a bit. This part of the road curves through uninhabited land, with the nearest village still some distance away. The only thing that stands out from the trees and grass is a military jeep parked to the side of the road, one of the modified vehicles with heavy bars across the windows to keep zombies from crawling inside. “We’re headed for the burned out petrol station at the curve of the road. If we’re lucky, we won’t run into anything on the way--”

 

“Stop!” A booming voice cries out, somewhere to the left of the dark road, among the campground. A blinding light flashes across Five’s eyes, ruining her night vision and causing her to stumble to a stop. Sara curses, stumbling to a stop and dropping her axe next to her feet.

 

“Well. What do we have here,” Morden drawls, stepping fully into their light. What the hell is _he_ doing here? “Making a run for it, Mouse?”

 

Of all the people to catch them outside of Abel. Five fights down a sudden surge of rage and despair. It’s completely unfair to find him here, and yet not at all surprising. He must have seen them leave Abel and followed them. Or not. Five frowns, thinking. Morden would have sounded the alarm the moment he saw Five approach the gates. So what the hell is he doing here?

 

Morden holds his pistol tightly, aiming straight at Sara’s face, clearly marking her as the more dangerous threat. The bored and disgusted look on her face seems to throw him off guard; it takes a particular kind of person to not show even a hint of fear when looking down the barrel of a gun, and Morden isn’t used to see that type of individual.

 

“You knew about the cameras, too,” Sara says. “You came out here to grab them.”

 

Morden glares at her, a look of confusion coming over his expression. “I’m here to look for my lost soldier, Smith. Major Stone’s orders. He’s hours overdue,” He smirks at Five. “Catching you in the middle of an escape is just a bonus for me.”

 

“We’re here to gather evidence to clear Five’s name, Morden,” Sara says, narrowing her eyes. “Put the gun down. Let’s not make this anymore unpleasant than it needs to be. In fact, come with us. We can make this a joint operation. You want to find the real killer just as much as we do, don’t you?”

 

He scoffs. “Yes, you’ve snuck out of Abel in the dead of night after a disastrous day in court to _secure_ evidence. I’m not some bloody _idiot_.” His voice is thick with scorn, and he starts to reach for the radio on his hip. He turns to sneer in Five’s direction. “Mouse may have you lot fooled, but she’s never fooled me. I know her type.”

 

Five starts to debate whether taking a bullet is worth strangling the smarmy fuck. She’s also fighting down a surge of panic. She can run, right now, into the woods. She’s fast. Faster than him; he won’t expect her to _not_ follow his orders. But then what would happen to Sara? She can’t leave her behind.

 

Her headset clicks, marking Sam’s return to their channel.

 

“What the--Dammit! No one told me he left,” Sam says irritably, clearly fighting down some panic. “Okay, I’m going to try and bring Three and Seven around, just keep him from using that radio--”

 

There’s flash of movement, faster than Five can track, and then a strangled cry of surprise. Sara has Morden’s wrist locked tight in her right hand, and with a twist of her hand, she snaps it back at a cruel angle, just short of breaking it in two. Morden curses her viciously, but he’s not used to pain or discomfort, and clearly assumed his gun would be enough to keep them both in control. He’s forced to contort his body over to the side, desperately trying to adjust his posture to keep from snapping his fingers and wrist from the weight of his own body. Sara twists his hand back and up, and the gun falls from his fingers to land at her feet. She kicks it over towards Five, the pistol skidding to a stop near a pile of leaves.

 

“You listen here, Edward,” Sara says lowly, “You have a chance to leave this clearing with all of your parts intact if you agree to be _reasonable_ for once in your life and leave well enough alone. Can you do that for me?”

 

Morden’s eyes flash in fury. “Are you _threatening_ me? If you think I won’t take this straight to Major Stone--”

 

Sara sighs, tilting his hand _just so_ and causing Morden to cut off his threat with a strangled yelp, falling to one knee to relieve the renewed pressure on his joints. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Morden, Five and I are going to go gather evidence of her innocence. You’re going to pretend you never saw us. Can I trust you to behave and stay out of our way?”

 

He glares at Sara, his face flushing red from fury, and says nothing. Sara _tsks_. “I thought not. Fine, we’ll play it your way.” Morden lets out a small whine of pain when Sara twists his hand further. Five is impressed his hand hasn’t snapped in half yet. “Your Major is three kilometers away and can’t do much of anything for you right now. Get in my way, and I’ll be happy to run right through you. We’re going to leave now. Five, do the honors.”

 

Sara grabs Morden’s shoulder with her free hand and roughly twists him around to face Five, keeping her hold on his wrist. Five ducks in and drives her fist into his jaw with as much force as she can put behind it. Her fist lands right on his chin, snapping his head to the right and sending a shock up through her arm to her shoulder. Morden sways, his eyes rolling back, falling onto the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. He hits the ground hard with a half conscious grunt.

 

Sara sounds pleased. “You’ve gotten better at that left hook, Five.”

 

Five gives her a quick grin, shaking her hand out. She’s tempted to do it again, over and over, until she feels satisfied she’s been repaid for all of the torment he’s put her through. If he doesn’t happen to have a face by the end of it from her punching, then well, so be it. She reaches down to grab the collar of his uniform shirt, starts to draw her arm back again--and stops.

 

She suddenly realizes how stupid she’s been. This is exactly what he wants, what he expects. He’s going to go straight back to Abel, back to Major Stone, screaming about the Abel runners out past curfew who attacked him without warning. He’ll launch a manhunt. It won’t matter that he aimed a gun at them first; he’ll say he tried to get them to surrender and they disarmed him. Technically true, but…

 

The thought of playing into his hands disgusts her more than the potential satisfaction of pounding him down into the dirt and leaving him for the zombs. She drops his collar, standing up, and backs away, brushing her hands across her trousers. They’re wasting valuable time. They need to keep moving.

 

Sara tilts her head, but doesn’t comment. She reaches in and grabs Morden’s radio, clipping it to the strap of her backpack before grabbing the gun and putting the safety back on.

 

Morden groans, weakly rolling over onto his side to cover his head from their lights. The wind picks up, blowing leaves into his face that he slaps away, and Five can hear the distant moans of zombies drawing closer. They might be in a green zone, but that just means zombies are relatively fewer, not completely gone.

  
Sam cuts in with a small cough. “Um. What now?”

 

Sara sighs, walking over to Morden’s backpack, shoving the gun inside it before tossing it up on top of the jeep. “I suppose we should leave him somewhere out of reach of the zombs. Assuming they’d even have the stomach for someone like him. Five, grab his left. We’ll drag him over to that jeep and lock him inside. Should be sturdy enough to keep the dead at bay until he gets his wits about him.”

 

Five nods, bending down to pick up Morden’s left arm and haul him over to the jeep. It’s slow going; dragging the full dead weight of a grown man is hard work, and Five and Sara both strain to haul him up into the back of the jeep. Five crawls inside to drag him across the back seat, then leaves from the other door, shutting it behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief, brushing her hands across legs again and catching her breath, watching the perimeter of the former campsite. No zombies yet. That's a good sign.

 

“You’re sure this won’t come back to bite us? I mean...you did just kind of beat up a Mullins soldier,” Sam says nervously. “Not that I’m going to cry over it or anything, personally, but.”

 

“A man like that won’t admit to losing his gun against an unarmed person, Sam,” Sara says dryly, tucking Morden’s legs into the jeep. “And if he does, I’ll handle it. People lunging out at you in the dark, in an area full of bandits, what does he expect to happen? Really, he’s lucky he only got punched.”

 

“And the fact that he was punched by someone who shouldn’t even be outside their dorm right now?” Sam persists, the frown obvious in his voice.

 

Sara smirks, “I come out on night runs by myself all the time, Sam. The Major's approved it in times of duress and Janine can confirm that I’ve been given special permission to leave at night if the need arises. I don’t see Five anywhere out here, do you?”

 

“Ah. Message received.”

 

“Don’t worry, Sam. He won’t be calling anyone without his radio,” Sara says, pulling Morden upright and strapping him into back of the jeep. He mumbles in bleary outrage, before falling silent again.

 

“Also a good point. But if he’s left here, then _someone_ knows where he is. They’ll go looking for him, eventually,” Sam replies, “Best get going. You’ve got a time limit.”

 

Five gives her mic another quick double tap and starts on the path, but stops when she doesn’t hear Sara follow. She turns to look back and finds her friend standing at the door. Sara’s staring at Morden’s half-conscious form with an utterly cold, blank expression on her face, rolling the axe in her hands thoughtfully. Five frowns, then whistles softly, just loud enough to get her attention. Sara snaps her eyes over to Five, the axe stilling in her hands. She’s giving serious thought to it, Five can tell.

 

Five slowly shakes her head and then waves for Sara to join her on the road. Sara watches her closely for a moment and then shuts the door, walking back towards her. They start back down the road in silence, falling back into their earlier positions, though there aren’t any zombies nearby to keep at bay.

 

A few moments pass before Sara says, “You’re a better person than I am, Five.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of their run is peaceful, save for the occasional, solitary zombie crossing into the road and the chill wind coming in from the north. Sara and Five have no trouble ducking around or dispatching the few zombies that stumble into their path, only slowing down when they reach the edge of Abel’s broadcast range. Their headsets become scratchy with faint static whenever Sam tries to speak with them, startling them more often than not. The static and darkness sets Five’s teeth on edge, reminding her of an old video game she had indulged in far too much as a teenager, and she jumps when Sara sets a hand on her shoulder.

 

Sara quirks a brow at her. “Easy, Five. We’re getting close to the first cam. I’ll need you to keep an eye on the perimeter while I check it out.”

 

The clearing isn’t far from the road, and Five feels a strange sense of deja vu as they slow to a stop in front of the burned out husk of the petrol station. It’s mostly intact, but scorched black across the front, with a twisted, burned out husk of a small car buried beneath the rubble of the front wall. A sturdy metal ladder leans against the side of the building, looking out of place beside the ruin. Likely left behind by whoever set up the cams in first place.

 

“Alright, Five,” Sara says while catching her breath. She glances around, aiming her torch up and down the dilapidated building. “There’s supposed to be a cam up along the north side of this building. One of those old ones, with the fold out screen on the side. Seven saw it the other day on his run.”

 

Five aims her light along the front of the building. It isn’t really up to the task of searching the face of it in conditions like these, and it takes her a moment to realize the light has caught onto the silver chassis of the camera taped to a telephone pole. She runs the small pool of light along the case, checking it for damage. No need to climb up there to look at it if it’s been destroyed beyond all use from storms or vandals. There’s a broken radio antenna, and small solar panel plugged into the back of the camera, with wires trailing back from all three, leading to a small, bulky box mounted to the pole with softly glowing LEDs peeking out. She taps Sara’s shoulder and points up at her find.

 

“Good eye, Five. Here, give me some light while I take a look,” Sara says, handing over her torch and moving for the ladder leaning against the side of the building. She props it up against the pole, tests to make sure it’s planted firmly against the ground, and starts to climb up. “Keep an eye out. Don’t want any pesky zombs knocking this out from underneath me.”

 

Five shudders at the thought, keeping one light aimed at the camera for Sara, and the other scanning the nearby woods and road. There are some zombs in both, but they’re only shamblers, and they’re spaced out enough to not be an issue yet. The danger from shamblers only really starts when they gather into groups.

 

“Turn off that light, Five. I’m going to make sure this one’s working,” Sara orders, flipping open the camera.

 

Five clicks off one of the lights, dividing her attention between Sara and the nearby zombs. A green LED turns on above the lens of the camera and then the blue light of a digital screen illuminates Sara’s face. She watches in silence for several minutes, her frown deepening. She huffs and shuts the screen off, snuffing out soft blue light, and even though Five can’t see her, she can feel Sara’s eyes on her.

 

“Well?” Sam asks, voice tight with tension. Five can barely hear him through the static. “Will that work? There are other cams, but none have as good of an angle. And I think one has a bird’s nest in it--”

 

“It’ll work. You’ll see it soon enough,” Sara says sharply, sliding her hands and feet down the sides of the ladder. “Get ready to grab Janine, Sam. We’re coming back to clear Five's name.”

 

Sam makes a small, excited noise that quickly turns to confusion and apprehension. “Um. Janine? I think she went to bed hours ago, and I _really_ don’t think I should break in. I tried that once since the Major came back and--"

 

“She’s right across from you, in the electronic shop, waiting to hear from us,” Sara says, jumping down to the ground. Five hands over one of the torches and she clips it back onto her shirt, turning it on. Sara’s movements are sharp and quick, a bit more forceful than strictly necessary. Unusual for someone normally so controlled. “Let’s go home, Five. Mullins has some explaining to do.”

 

* * *

 

The return trip doesn’t take much time at all, even with the added effort of circling around the Mullins campground. The wind grows stronger and brings with it thick, heavy clouds that hover ominously along the horizon; Five can feel her teeth chattering, despite the exertion. Her shirt and sweatpants aren’t nearly enough for a chill autumn night run. Sara shows no signs of discomfort, of course. As they draw closer to the outskirts of Abel, Sam cuts in.

 

“Right. Time to get you inside,” He says thoughtfully, “Come back along that dark part of the wall, same way you left, but follow it around to the north end. Evan left you grappling hooks there in case you needed to come back.

 

“Knew he’d pull through,” Sara replies, warm respect in her voice. She leads Five along the outside wall, coming to a stop at the darkest part of it. Fortunately, the moon hasn’t been obscured by the oncoming storm yet and it gives them enough ambient light to move quickly, and there are no zombies nearby.

 

Five taps the mic. “We’re here. Now what?”

 

“Check the rock that kind of looks like Simon if he were a dog, and then wait for my signal. The night watch is about to pass over that part of the wall. You’ll be able to cross over it when they pass.”

 

They find the rock after some searching along the base of the wall--it really _does_ look like Simon with four legs--and grab the two ropes and grappling hooks hidden beneath it. Five weighs the rope and hook in her hand, readying to toss the hook up to the top of the wall. Sara does the same.

 

“Alright, Sam,” Sara whispers, “We’ve got the ropes.”

 

“Good. The guard should pass by in three, two, one--" Five hears the sound of heavy footsteps pass over them and travel further down the wall. They pause for a moment, and the beam of a torch travels across the muddy ground a few feet away before disappearing. More footsteps, fading into the dark. “Okay, go! Now! You only have a few minutes until the next patrol comes by.”

 

“You first, Five,” Sara says, stepping back to give her room. “Quickly!”

 

Five rears back and throws the hook up over the edge of the wall. It slides and then catches against a gap in the heavy wood. She gives a few hard tugs against rope to make sure it stays securely in place and then starts to climb up. It’s hard work; the weight of the day’s events, physical and emotional, are starting to catch up to her. Not to mention the heavy backpack across her shoulders, still full of supplies.

 

Sara throws her own hook over the wall when Five is halfway to the top. She closes the gap between them fast and they haul themselves up onto the wall at the same time. Five listens carefully, reaching down to retrieve the grappling hooks, both her own and Sara’s.

 

“Good! Huh. Never thought I’d orchestrate a break in on my own home,” Sam muses, “Up ahead there’s a ladder. Climb down and come to the comms shack quick as you can. I'll go grab Janine.”

 

Five gives another quick double tap of acknowledgement and slips the rope and grappling hook over her shoulder, heading for the ladder. Sara is one step behind her, keeping a wary eye on the distant forms of the guards along the further edges of the wall. She seems much less nervous than Five, almost as if she’d done this before.

 

They both slide down the ladder and duck into the nearby ruins of a greenhouse, skirting the edge of it until they’re well out of sight of the wall. The streets and roads of Abel are just as silent now as they were when they left. It doesn’t take them much time to sneak over to the comms shack and slip inside.

 

It’s empty at the moment, but the lights are on and Janine’s laptop is set up on the back table, the login screen waiting for Janine’s password. Five shivers when she comes in, dropping her backpack off of her shoulders. It lands with a solid thump at her feet, and she gently nudges it over to the corner to grab it later. Sara tosses her empty backpack over to its spot along the wall and plugs her headset in to recharge.

 

“Mr. Yao,” Janine mutters darkly, shoving the comms door open ahead of herself, “If this is _another_ question about ice cream rolls--”

 

She trails off into silence upon seeing Five and Sara sitting down inside the shack, both of them sweaty and tired, clearly back from a run. Her mouth draws a hard, thin line and she looks over at Sara for an explanation.

 

“We’ve got it, Janine,” Sara says, exhausted and perhaps a bit smug. She holds up the memory card from the petrol station, “This will clear Five’s name.”

 

Janine pauses for a moment and then relaxes by the slightest margin, giving Sara a sharp nod as she takes the card from her and plugs it into the laptop. “Excellent work, Runner Eight. I trust the ropes worked well?”

 

“You knew about that?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind himself. “Here I am thinking I’m some kind of spy.”

 

“Please. There is very little about this township that I _don’t_ know about, Mr. Yao.” Janine replies crisply, waiting for her laptop to load up her profile. The sound of fans cooling the electronics fills the comms shack, and Five feels a strange pang of nostalgia for the world before the apocalypse, when she spent most of her days inside with a laptop, studying or chatting with online friends.

 

“I might have mentioned a few things to her over tea the other night,” Sara adds, rolling her left shoulder, "After all, that's a breach of security we can't afford to leave open for just anyone to use."

 

“Oh. Figures. Should we show the video when the trial starts up again tomorrow?” Sam asks, handing Five a towel and water bottle. She takes both gratefully, wiping her face clean and then draping the towel across her neck. She's glad to be back in civilization again, away from the dark woods and zombies. It was easier traveling through the night this time, but she’s still a bit rattled from it, as anyone would be. “You know, prove to the world that Five’s innocent.”

 

“No,” Janine says, glancing at Five briefly. There’s something close to suspicion in her eyes. Five feels a sudden surge of frustration; Janine had given her a look like that before, when Five was new to the township and under suspicion of being a spy. She’s poured blood and sweat into earning a place at Abel, at proving herself. Knowing it’s already gone or had never been fully granted makes her clench her teeth in frustration. “We need to determine what that camera captured before we make a decision.”

 

Sam stares at her incredulously. “You think Five did it.”

 

“There are certain circumstances that make me think it’s a _possibility_ , Mr. Yao. We must be sure beyond a reasonable doubt,” Janine says plainly, turning on the laptop’s video player and downloading the files directly to her hard drive. “And we’re about to find out one way or another.”

 

She opens the file and presses play as Five and the others gather around her. The picture is clear enough, though the camera shakes with the occasional sharp gust of wind. The clearing is empty, and stays that way. Janine hovers her mouse over the bar until she finds what they’re looking for, pushing the video file into fast forward. Zombies, wildlife, and the occasional sauntering group of bandits pass by camera as the sun rises and casts shadows across the road. Suddenly, an airdrop crate lands in the field, crashing through the branches and settling into the ground. Janine slows the video down to a normal speed.

 

Eventually, Williams comes into view, followed by Smokey. There’s no audio, but Williams starts gesturing wildly, and shoving at Smokey’s shoulders, pointing back the way they came. He’s swaying as if drunk, and holds his head. Smokey glares at him and roughly shoves him back, causing Williams to stumble a small distance away, then steps in close, clearly ready for a fight.

 

Sam leans over Janine’s shoulder, peering closer. “Mullins never mentioned this. They said Williams was alone when he got to the clearing. All of their reports on the radio, anyway. Even their own people.”

 

Janine quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. Mullins said they would send only one soldier to the drop point. They lied, apparently.”

 

“It almost looks like Smokey’s taunting him. Trying to get him to fight,” Sam whispers, frowning.

 

“Keep watching,” Sara says quietly.

 

Five shifts nervously; there’s a heavy weight in her stomach, and she has to fight the urge to turn away. She isn’t sure she wants to see more of the video, but keeps her eyes forward regardless.

 

Smokey and Williams shove each other back forth across the clearing a few times, sometimes hidden by the trees, other times obscured by the camera’s shaking. Smokey starts to grow red in the face, his eyes wide and unblinking, and he roughly shoves Williams. This time, he pushes him hard enough to cause him to trip over his own feet, and Williams fails to catch his balance, his arms wind milling uselessly as he falls to the ground. He lands hard on his side, his head cracking against a rock just barely into the view of the camera.

 

Smokey goes stock still, panic starts to come over his features, and then he squares his shoulders and pulls out a knife, driving the blade into Williams’ neck. He leaves it there, turning to pull Williams’ backpack from his arms and starts to raid the airdrop, shoving medicine and food into both his and Williams’ packs.

 

“Jesus,” Sam mutters, stepping back from the laptop.

 

Five turns away, feeling sick to her stomach. Smokey is the killer. If the evidence wasn’t in front of her eyes, she’d never believe it. Even with the video, it’s hard to reconcile the man covered in blood with her friend. Or former friend.

 

The video continues. Smokey pulls the bags off to the side, deeper into the woods and out of sight of the camera. Blood has spread across the grass and ground from Williams’ body, and he has to take care to not slip in it. He disappears into the line of trees.

 

Five runs into the clearing only a few seconds after Smokey leaves. She stumbles, her foot slipping in the blood, causing her to drop her axe as she stumbles ahead a few steps. She can’t catch her balance and falls to her hands and knees almost on top of Sgt. Williams. She scrambles back, a look of utter confusion and horror on her face, getting more blood on her clothes and hands. She’s so focused on Williams’ body that she doesn’t see Smokey come out of the woods behind her. He grabs the axe she dropped, and then brings the handle down hard against the back of her head, raising it up again for a second strike before stumbling away. He looks sick, as if he’s just recognized Five.

 

Five slumps to the ground bonelessly. Williams’ body shifts, and moves; horrifyingly, he’s still alive. Smokey panics, and brings Five’s axe down on him. And then again. And again. Over and over, until there’s nothing left to move. He leaves the axe buried in Williams’ back, staggering back from the carnage. He glances around nervously, then grabs Five’s backpack and quickly runs off into the woods. The camera’s clock quietly ticks off a few seconds until Five stirs again, sees Williams, and then weakly crawls for her headset. This repeats a few times until she finally manages to tap out a message on her fallen headset a few minutes later.

 

Janine stops the video.

 

The comms shack is silent for a moment as Janine carefully backs up the files to the laptop’s hard drive. Sam looks sick; he’s no stranger to violence, but the video had been brutal. Sara stands taller than she did a few moments before, as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

 

“Well,” Janine says, closing the laptop and preparing to take it with her. “It seems we have something to share with Major Stone and Mr. Oswell after all. Excellent work, runners.”

 

“No wonder Smokey disappeared on his scouting run yesterday,” Sara shakes her head, sighing heavily, “He likely couldn’t bear the thought of watching Five take the fall for him. Awfully cowardly of him, if you ask me.”

 

“He panicked,” Sam protests weakly, still looking vaguely green. “I mean, you’ve seen how they treated him. Of course he panicked. Not that I think he was justified just _stabbing_ him and-and hitting Runner Five like that, of course--”

 

“He made his decision,” Janine says primly, “He struck a superior, murdered him, and then orchestrated Runner Five to take the blame for his crimes. Those are not the actions of a good man, Mr. Yao. Runner Five came from similar circumstances and she didn’t turn to murder.”

 

“Exactly,” Sara says. “Five’s not a killer.”

 

Five doesn’t know what to think. Smokey had always been such a close companion at Mullins. He listened to her grieve for her grandparents, helped her hide from the worst of Morden’s tantrums, and provided the first real friendship she had after the end of the world. She would sneak treats out to him when he was working those long shifts at the burn pits when she couldn’t sleep, and he’d repay her by showing off silly shadow puppet shows in the flickering light of the fire. Comparing that shy, awkward young man with the one capable of killing in one of the most violent ways imaginable... She would never have expected him to do this. To kill someone, even someone like Williams, in such a horrifying way.

 

She’s just been proven innocent beyond all doubt. She should happy. She should be relieved. She just feels sick and betrayed. She’s never had a friend hurt her like this before, and the wound cuts deep. The only comfort is that she’ll likely never experience such a betrayal at Abel, and that’s a rather cold comfort indeed.

 

“With me, Runner Five, Runner Eight,” Janine says, tucking the laptop under her arm on her way out of the comms shack. “We’re going to show the tribunal this video immediately.”

 

Sara glances over at Five and her eyes soften. “Give her a moment, Janine. Five’s just had a bit of a shock. It might be best if we talk to the tribunal first, anyway. I’ll have to explain the Morden situation to them.”

 

Janine stiffens, coming to a stop next to the door. “The _what_ situation?”

 

“Mm, funny thing,” Sara says casually, “Morden startled me at the edge of the Mullins camp when I was running by. Came out with a gun and started threatening me. Guess he mistook me for a bandit. I reacted the way anyone would, you know. Knocked him silly. Had to stuff him inside one of their jeeps until he could come to. No real harm intended, of course.”

 

Janine’s eyes narrow suspiciously, then cut down to Sara’s hands before moving over to Five’s bruised knuckles. Five folds her hands behind her back and does her best to put on a neutral and innocent expression. Janine sighs.

 

“Right. Of course,” She mutters, slightly annoyed, “I’ll have you explain that to Major De Santa and Major Stone. Runner Five, I suggest you find a pair of gloves before you come to the farmhouse. Just so there’s no confusion.”

 

She aims a sharp look at both Five and Sara, opening the door to the comms shack and letting in a burst of chill night air. Five maintains her innocent look; Sara grins. Janine shakes her head, and leaves the shack, Sara at her heels.

 

The shack is still for a moment, until Sam starts to rummage around the back corner where the supplies are sorted. He comes back with a pair of fingerless gloves and his own faded orange hoodie, pressing them into her hands.

 

“Here,” He murmurs, squeezing her hands gently before pulling back, “You look a bit cold. And it’d look weird if you showed up with just gloves on with your t-shirt. You can bring it back when you’re done with it.”

 

Five tries to smile at him, but can’t quite manage it. She keeps seeing Smokey holding her axe. She shudders, pulling on the gloves and Sam’s hoodie. It’s warm from his body heat, smells vaguely like stale candy, and worn thin in places, but it helps her relax. At least a little.

 

Sam smiles at her. “It looks better on you than it does me. Best get going, Five. The sooner they clear your name, the sooner we can spread the word and get back to normal.”

 

Five isn’t sure she _can_ go back to normal after this, but she nods and waves at him before ducking out of the shack. She doesn’t have to worry about staying hidden from anyone now, so she walks in the open, passing under the few solar powered lamps the line the main path through Abel. Her mind is a whirlwind; relief chased by fury, and despite it all, worry for what will happen to her former friend now.

 

Five knocks on the door before she enters; it still feels strange to be inside Janine’s home, and she didn’t exactly have a pleasant experience the last time she was here. She opens the door and slowly pokes her head inside when no one answers. The lights are on, but only in the den, and Five can hear the murmur of conversation; Major De Santa’s firm voice, Sara’s dry tone, and the strained, confused pitch of Major Stone’s words, followed by Janine, sharp and demanding.

 

“It’s unbelievable. Lt. Morden wouldn’t--” Stone protests.

 

“Obviously, he did,” Janine replies, “And your failure to even consider alternative avenues has resulted in not only a waste of time, but allowed both Van Ark to continue his plans unhindered and given the true murderer a chance to get away.”

 

Major De Santa looks up from the conversation and catches Five’s eye. She straightens, waving Five inside. “Excellent timing, Runner Five. Come inside. Major Stone has something she’d like to say to you.”

 

All eyes turn to Five, reminding her of when she stood in the courtroom earlier in the day, and she has to fight the urge to duck back outside and run. It’s been a hard day, and she’s not ready to face Major Stone again, even to clear her own name. She hesitates in the doorway for a moment until Sara catches her eye and gives her a small, reassuring smile. Bolstered, Five steps into the room, hands fidgeting with the ragged hem of Sam’s hoodie until she stills them.

 

The room is fairly large and tastefully decorated, but it doesn’t quite feel welcoming. The fireplace is cracking cheerfully, with Sara leaning against the mantle. Major De Santa is standing beside one of the large, overstuffed chairs, one hand resting on top of it; she must have been pulled out of bed for this, but she looks as fresh as she does any other morning. Janine is sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on one arm as she starts to turn it off.

 

Stone looks exhausted; dark bags hang under her eyes and there’s a worried tension radiating from her. She shifts from one foot to the other, doing her best to ignore Major de Santa’s watchful gaze. “Runner Five, I believe I owe you an apology. For many things. Rest assured, Smokey will answer for his crimes. And changes will be coming to Mullins to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

 

“I should hope not,” Major De Santa quips, “I think it best that you and your people leave for New Canton tomorrow night, Major Stone. You can continue your operations from there.”

 

Stone frowns at De Santa. “We can’t possibly search for the murderer from New Canton. It’s too far--”

 

De Santa quirks a brow at her. “You must have mistaken my tone, Major Stone. I was not giving you a _suggestion._ ”

 

Stone falls silent, clenching her jaw. Five can’t help but feel a tiny bit vindicated watching the woman lose face in front of Major De Santa. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t been so quick to listen to Morden.

 

Of course, none of this would have happened at all if Smokey hadn’t murdered Williams.

 

“As I was saying,” Major De Santa continues, clasping her hands behind her back. “You will continue your operations from New Canton. Janine has gone to the trouble of making the necessary arrangements for you with Mr. Oswell, and New Canton has graciously offered to host you. I expect you and your men to be out of my township by the time dinner ends tomorrow. Have I made myself clear?”

 

“Very,” Stone replies, teeth clenched.

 

Major De Santa nods, “Excellent. Abel will start a search for your missing soldier in the meantime. As a courtesy. Dismissed.”

 

Stone glares at De Santa for a moment before stiffly turning and walking for the door. She doesn’t spare a glance towards any of the others and shuts the door hard behind her. The rough treatment of her door earns a sour look from Janine.

 

Sara snorts. “Good riddance.”

 

“Indeed,” Major De Santa sighs, rubbing her eyes. When she speaks, there’s a quiet weariness to her voice that wasn’t there when Major Stone was present. “Runner Five, Runner Eight, excellent work. Go get some rest. We’ve got a long day waiting for us tomorrow. You two are going to find out what happened to that airdrop.”

 

* * *

 

Five sleeps like the literal dead the rest of the night, and stumbles out of her room late the next morning after changing into clean clothes and Sam’s hoodie. Normally she’s up at dawn; Janine must be feeling particularly forgiving if she’s been allowed to sleep past sunrise, even if said sunrise happens behind a dreary grey mist. Her thoughts are still troubled, but at least she knows she won’t have to go stand in a trial today. The residents treat her as normal, but a few lingering Mullins soldiers watch her coolly from their tables at the mess hall. She makes sure to sit as far away from them as possible though they don’t seem interested in causing any trouble.

 

Sara finds her shortly after her late breakfast, handing Five her headset. She looks well rested and somehow smug. Five briefly wonders just how far Sara had been willing to go last night. Would she have gone on the run with Five? She thinks of Smokey, likely hiding alone out in the wilderness, surrounded by zombies and bandits, and realizes she’s both worried and furious for him. She’s not quite ready to face the implications of his betrayal. Not yet.

 

“Alright, Five?” Sara asks, grinning. “Just a quick run today. Smokey and that airdrop he stole are probably long gone by now, but the Major promised Mullins we’d look for him while they pack up to leave.”

 

“I won’t mind the run,” Five says, putting it on and following Sara to the gates. They pass by the Mullins entourage, and Five watches the soldiers begin to break down and pack up their tents under Major Stone’s watchful eye. She glances at Five for a moment, clenches her jaw and pointedly looks away again. Five isn’t sure she’s willing to forgive her either. “I’m not sure of what to do if we find Smokey.”

 

“If he’s got any sense, he’ll be long gone,” Sara replies. She ducks into the comms shack and comes back with their backpacks, tossing Five hers. She glances around a moment and leans in conspiratorially. “Really, Five, I think this is just a chance to get you out of the way while Major De Santa clears out Mullins and New Canton’s runners. That bloody journalist is still scooting around out here, and Morden’s come back. Best we keep our distance from him, or I’ll be tempted to do something unwise.”

 

There’s a disturbing thought. Five shrugs on her backpack, nodding to her friend. “Makes sense. I’m happy to be out of the township for a bit, honestly. Just a quick scouting run?”

 

“Quick and easy, Five,” Sara answers, her tone softening. “We’ll be back long before dinner and move on with our lives.”

 

“Runners, mic check,” Janine says from their headsets.

 

Five perks up, giving the mic a quick double tap of acknowledgement while Sara replies, “We hear you, Janine.”

 

“Excellent. Runner Five, you’ll find a new machete in your pack. Use that for field work until your axe is sanitized. Raise the gates!” Janine calls out to the guards, raising her voice to be heard over the hydraulics and warning klaxon. “Your first destination is the clearing where the airdrop landed. We’ll begin our search there. Move quickly. ”

 

Despite her last run taking place less than six hours earlier and the dreary, grey weather, Five doesn’t slow down at all. The muddy roads are easy to run through, and the damp, chill air doesn’t quite reach her through her borrowed hoodie. The run is a chance for her to clear her head, to get away from the township.

 

A few packs of shamblers wander into their view, but it’s much easier to avoid them in the daylight than it was last night. She and Sara find themselves the woods near the airdrop for the second time in as many days.

 

The forest is quiet and still, strangely peaceful despite bird calls and the occasional moan from a passing zombie. The heavy crate sits at the southern edge of the clearing, its parachute tangled up in the branches above it. The grass is stained a dull, deep brown, and a freshly covered grave sits nearby. An unimpressive rock serves as a grave marker. Five keeps her distance from both, letting Sara take the lead.

 

“Any word from Seven and Three, Janine?” Sara asks.

 

“They returned earlier in the morning,” Janine says through a burst of static, “Mr. Yao guided them home. They’re all on rest breaks until this afternoon. Are you able to retrieve that parachute? Mullins might be able to repair it for another use.”

 

“Afraid not. It’s torn to shreds. There’s no saving it--” She trails off, going silent. She taps her mic, using Five’s own codes, and then whispers. “Stranger to the south.”

 

Five can see them now. A man is hunched over a tent beneath the branches of a fallen tree, with their back facing Five and Sara. He hasn’t seen them yet, and doesn’t seem to realize they’re there. Sara waves for Five to follow her and stalks through the forest towards the man, moving through the fallen leaves almost silently. Five follows her lead, doing her best to emulate Sara’s silent approach. They’re almost twenty feet away from him when he turns around to grab his backpack and sees them.

 

The man jumps up to his feet with a startled yelp, eyes wide and frightened, hands raised to ward off the oncoming runners. Five recognizes him instantly, as does Sara. Her hands drop to her sides.

 

“Smokey?” Sara asks, her eyebrows raising.

 

“Oh! I...uh, I was on…” He looks back and forth between them, backing away from them slowly. He’s changed out of his uniform; he’s wearing sturdy jeans, a flannel shirt, and a thick coat meant more for winter than the beginning of autumn. The clothes look new and unworn, his belt is lined with the sort of packs found in emergency airdrop crates. Supplies likely stolen from the airdrop.

 

Sara narrows her eyes when she sees that. “Smokey. You should come back with us. You’ve got a bit of explaining to do, I’m afraid. We know what you’ve done. We need to hear your side of things.”

 

“What are you talking about?” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and there’s a high, nervous tone to his voice.

 

“You killed Sgt. Williams, Smokey,” Sara answers warily, “A camera on the other side of the road caught the whole thing.”

 

Smokey’s demeanor changes. He goes pale as a ghost, stumbling back from them with his hand ducking under his coat and coming back with a gun. He aims it at their direction, but he doesn’t have either of them in his sights yet. Seeing him pull a _gun_ on her shakes Five to her core.

 

“Runners, I’ve alerted Mullins. They’re leaving the township in force, but it will take them some time before they can reach you,” Janine cuts in, “Try to keep him distracted, if you can.”

 

“It's not that different from killing zombies, you know. Not much different at all,” Smokey says, staring off. Judging by how pale and sick he looks, and the way he twitches and moves, Five isn’t convinced.

 

Smokey turns to Five, his grip on the gun shaking wildly, “I’m sorry. I really am.” His voice goes high and tight, just short of angry. “You weren’t supposed to be the one to find him!”

 

“Who was?” Sara asks quietly. She’s watching Smokey like a hawk, waiting for a moment to move in and strike. If he was just a few steps closer, she could duck in and knock the weapon out of his hand easily; Five has seen her practice those moves before. Guns aren't all that effective in close range, but Smokey was just barely out of reach for Sara.

 

“Morden,” Smokey spits the name out with such venom that Five almost winces, “And then he’d join Williams in that damn clearing. It’d be blamed on those roving bandits in the woods and we’d all be better off for their deaths. But that's not what happened, is it?”

 

He turns an angry look at Five, his eyes wide, accusing and miserable, “You never ran that fast at Mullins! If you had just been _slower_ this would never have happened!”

 

“Put the gun down, Smokey,” Five signs, doing her best to keep her hands from shaking. He looks terrible--pale and sick, shaking with fear. He must be exhausted from spending all night in the woods, in the dark, surrounded by zombies. “Come back with us. We can work something out. We can help you.”

 

Sara starts to move closer to Smokey while he’s distracted. His head twitches, and he sees her out of the corner of his eye.

 

“No!” Smokey shouts, half screaming while he whips the gun towards Sara, his hand shaking from panic. “I’m not going back! I’ll die before then! You saw how they treated me before when I hadn’t done anything to them, what do you think they’ll do to me now?”

 

Sara meets his eyes evenly, and there’s genuine pity in her voice. She takes a few careful steps forward, stopping when a panicked whimper tears itself from Smokey’s throat. “You’ve been pushed beyond your limit. It happens. Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more often at Mullins, given the way they run things. Major De Santa can protect you--”

 

The gun goes off, the bullet sailing harmlessly past Sara’s head. Five winces at the noise, her ears ringing and her heart in her throat. Sara winces and curses quietly, but backs away from Smokey. That had been _entirely_ too close!

 

“Get back!” Smokey shouts, barely heard over the ringing in Five’s ears. His eyes are wide and unblinking, and there’s a new authority to his voice. He’s made up his mind. Five sees her friend clearly for the first time since they reunited, and it breaks her heart. This isn’t some clever murderer, just a man broken by his past. “I won’t go back! I won’t! Don’t follow me! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try to take me back to them!”

 

Sara narrows her eyes, but stays put, keeping her hands up. She goes silent, and very slowly starts to back away, giving Smokey room.

 

Smokey mimics her, slowly walking backwards towards the edge of the forest, the shaking gun switching between her and Five. He stops at the edge of the woods, looking over at Five.

 

“I’m sorry, Mouse,” He says, anguished, “I never meant for you to get caught up in this. I’m so sorry.”

 

He turns and darts into the trees, crashing through the branches and undergrowth. Sara sets her jaw, and starts to move after him. Five is only a step behind.

 

“Don’t, Runner Eight. Runner Five,” Janine cuts in. “Neither of you are armed, and those woods are at the edge of our camera net and broadcast range. It’s too dangerous for you to continue. He’s already demonstrated he’s capable of murder. Mullins will have to find him themselves.”

 

Sara tilts her head. “They’re well behind us, Janine. They’ll never catch up to him in time.”

 

“How unfortunate,” Janine replies, just barely keeping the sarcasm out of her voice. “Runner Five, Runner Eight, return to Abel at once. We’ve done more than enough for Mullins. They can clean up their own mess.”

 

Five taps out a quick acknowledgement on her headset, trying to see through the trees Smokey disappeared behind. She wants to follow him. To talk to him. He needs help. Hell, he needs a friend now more than ever. If she could just _talk_ to him--

 

Sara touches her arm, drawing her attention away from the woods. “C’mon, Five. Let’s go home.”

 

Five shakes her head, letting her shoulders slump, but obediently follows Sara back towards Abel. They walk in silence for a moment before Sara turns off her headset and motions for Five to do the same.

 

“You alright, Five?”

 

Five fidgets with her headset, and shakes her head. “No. I’m not. I was hurt by a friend, humiliated in a ridiculous trial, and betrayed. I’m not alright.”

 

Sara keeps pace with her, watching her quietly.

 

Five sighs. “At least I know no one at Abel will betray me like that.”

 

Sara gives her a small smile, one that seems almost sad. She says nothing.

 

* * *

 

It’s a quiet, somber run back to Abel. Sara leaves Five to her thoughts, letting her run in relative peace. They get back in the late afternoon, just as rain begins to fall from the heavy clouds above. Five draws up her hood, silently thanking Sam for lending her his hoodie. It won’t do much against a heavy rain, but it can handle this steady gentle rain quite well.

 

The gates are busy; most of the Mullins entourage has left in search of Smokey, but Sgt. Vaughn and a few others were left behind to load up Mullins’ jeeps for the trip to New Canton. Major De Santa is standing near the small group, speaking with Sgt. Vaughn.

 

“Look into getting that transfer, Vaughn,” Major De Santa says quietly, “You did the right thing, but you won’t have many friends at Mullins after this.”

 

“Never had that many to begin with, ma’am,” Vaughn says with a sad smile, “I’ll figure something out. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

 

Major De Santa nods. “Carry on then, soldier. Godspeed.”

 

Sgt. Vaughn gives her a sharp salute before climbing into the passenger seat of one of the jeeps. She catches Five’s eye and freezes for a moment, before giving her a quick nod and wave. Five returns the wave on her way by, moving off to the side of the gates to stretch and cool down. Part of her wants to talk to her, to see how she’s taken the news of Smokey’s betrayal, but a larger part just wants to forget Mullins altogether. Including Vaughn.

 

The last of the supplies are loaded into the back of the jeep and the remaining soldiers jump into or grab onto the sides of the jeep. Mullins starts to leave the township. When the final jeep has passed through the gates, Five sighs in relief. It takes a monumental amount of willpower to keep from doing something immature and unprofessional, like flipping them the bird behind their backs.

 

Well, it isn’t like they’ll see. She’ll never see any of them again, after all. She’ll just get a sideways glare from look from the Major, probably. Worth it. She starts to raise her hand--

 

And is stopped by Sara, who drops a watch into her palm. Silver, with gold trim, and a date carefully etched beneath the watch face. She stares down at her palm, turning it over with shaking fingers. It’s her grandfather’s watch. The one Morden had stolen from her home. She snaps her head up at Sara.

 

“Funny what people lose track of when they’re off running about at night, isn’t it,” Sara says with a smirk, pulling out a knife and checking the edge for sharpness. Five recognizes it as Morden’s utility knife, the one he always carried on his thigh. She idly wonders if Sara took his wallet while she was at it. “I figured you’d like to have that back, Five.”

 

For the first time in two days, Five smiles. “Thank you, Sara.”

 

Sara smiles back, running her thumb along her new knife. “Of course, Five. Happy to help.” She sheaths the knife. “We should go get cleaned up. The runners are going to want to celebrate you coming off of death row. Come on, let’s get ready for the party.”

 

* * *

 

Five stumbles into her room later that night, well and truly buzzed off of the stash of tequila Simon had pulled out of god knows where. The runners are still out having a celebration in honor of her cleared name, but Five has hit her limit. And while the party is a nice distraction from everything that’s happened, she finds she needs a moment to herself to unwind and decompress. She lights the candle in her room and relaxes when it lights up her small room, pulling her hair down from its braid.

 

On her bed is a box, with a note. Five can recognize Major De Santa’s flowing script even from the door. She picks up the note.

 

_Runner Five,_

 

_I informed Major Stone that reparations were in order to make up for Mullins’ handling of this whole affair. She wisely agreed to my terms with little objection._

 

_Lt. Morden was therefore forced to surrender all of the personal items he looted from your home. He refused to make any direct apologies, and he claims to have lost the watch that he stole from your grandfather. You will likely come across that particular item one way or another regardless. I am well aware of the skills a certain number of our Runners possess._

 

_Let us put all of this sorry business behind us. I have informed Runner Seven that he is to put you back on duty ASAP. Report to him for your schedule no later than 0600 tomorrow. We are behind schedule and there’s plenty of work to do._

 

_-Major De Santa_

 

Curious, Five peers into the box. Inside is a small photo album, some letters, and a stuffed animal wedged beneath the album. It’s a stoic faced teddy bear wearing a small tie and green jacket. She lights up, picking up the bear and gently checking him. His ears are a tad worn, and he’s a bit flat in the middle from being held in her arms at night as a child, but he’s still whole. A bit dirty, a bit dusty, and god only knows why Morden had this in the first place, but there. One of the last mementos she has of her grandparents. A gift to protect her from her nightmares after she lost her parents, long before the apocalypse.

 

Five isn’t sure if these few mementos from her family are worth all the pain she’s endured to get them, but she’s thankful to have them regardless. She blows out the candle, laying down, hugging her bear close to her chest as she starts to drift off to sleep, the bear tucked up under her chin.

 

_“Nightmares again, sprout? Ah, poor thing. I have something to help,” Her grandfather says, pulling a small bear from behind his back. He tucks the bear into bed beside her, fussing over her. “See this? Stoic faced chap, isn't he? All business. His name’s Mr. Bearclaw. He’ll protect you from the bad things in the night. Just keep him close, dear.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I decided to write a short three part fic for ZR that wouldn't be more than 15,000 words at most. 
> 
> Yeah, that didn't work out.
> 
> Massive shout out to [TyraaRane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TyraaRane/pseuds/TyraaRane) for the prompt that sparked this and for being shockingly patient with me pinging plot ideas off of her almost constantly.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos! I've been blown away by the reaction to this. I honestly didn't expect it at all, and it's been great seeing everyone's reaction to the story. I hope you all enjoyed the fic. I have another one in mind soon, with the focus on Janine.


End file.
